


The Dark Night of the Soul

by acatbyanyothername



Series: Soulmate AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Canon Divergence - Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Not a Jedi, Qui-Gon Jinn Needs a Hug, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28598046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatbyanyothername/pseuds/acatbyanyothername
Summary: One of your eyes is your own colour, the other eye is the colour of your soulmate's. When Qui Gon first sees the Sith with golden eyes, he doesn't realise at first that he met his soulmate.
Relationships: Dooku & Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Soulmate AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095542
Comments: 96
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyber-erso (aoraki)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoraki/gifts), [Pomiar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomiar/gifts).



> This story couldn't have seen the light of day without the QuiObi discord, so thank you. Thank you also to my most wonderful beta [Lilibet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibet) , to [Pomiar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pomiar), [Scruffy ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaRex/pseuds/TeaRex) and [Tess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessiete) who were there to hear me whine about this fic. This fic is dedicated to all the people who wanted to see more soulmate AU in Star Wars, I hope you like the story.

Not everyone is born with a soulmate. But Qui Gon was. When Qui-Gon was born, one of his eyes was azure, but nobody could quite tell the colour of his other eye. Sometimes it was grey, sometimes blue or even green. Most of the time it was viridian, and it gave him a piercing look that put people ill at ease. When teenagehood hit and he found himself suddenly towering above everyone, things only got worse. Nobody would quite look at him in the eyes. Instead they would focus on his mouth or his nose, that had been broken and never healed right. 

His master had told him that it was only another tool in his diplomatic arsenal. Dooku used his cold and refined elegance to dominate a room, and he taught Qui-Gon how to use his eyes and height as a weapon. But they never touched upon the subjects of soulmates, except once when his master told him to not attach any importance to such trivial things. After all, having a soulmate was just a potential weakness or attachment, and Qui-Gon knew that his master was tired of his padawan’s propension to adopt what he called “pathetic lifeforms”. 

But the question kept haunting Qui-Gon, despite or maybe because his master’s attempts to discourage him in his yearning for his soulmate. Every mission was an opportunity to discover new races and new people, and on each and every one, Qui-Gon would seek another pair of azure and viridian eyes. He never found it. 

When his master and him were temple-bound, he would find some pretext or other to be out of their shared quarters more often than not to socialize or simply to roam the halls, seeking in others faces a mirror of his own, quietly despairing each time he crossed paths with a figure whose eyes were hidden by its hood. 

Rationally he knew it was folly to cling so tightly onto something he had no control over, but it didn’t matter. He was lonely and simply the idea that there was someone with whom he could share everything he was or would ever be was a sweet and comforting thought. 

Still the years passed, and he was knighted. He went on as he always did, further and further away into the galaxy. He didn’t search actively anymore for his soulmate, but the quiet yearning was ever present, an itch just under his sternum that he would rub from time to time to ease the strain. 

Feemor was a brilliant teenager with corn-coloured hair and his training distracted Qui-Gon from other concerns. He didn’t wait much longer after Feemor’s knighting and took his second padawan, a dark-haired, sharp-smiled boy named Xanatos. His treason almost undid him completely. While before Qui-Gon hadn’t really sought to establish strong links with his brethren, now he felt totally alienated. 

He could hear the whispers following him, replaying again and again in his head when he lay in bed at night, growing until all these tangled thoughts drowned out everything, in a terrible cacophony. Xanatos would have been a brilliant Jedi, surely it was all the master’s fault, really the poor boy, he could have had any master he wanted, but he had to be chosen by Jinn, the odd one, the one who may have been a bit touched in the head, such were things that plagued the Jedi’s mind. One among the many screamed much louder than the others: where was his soulmate? 

Surely if he had failed in training Xanatos, it was because his soul was incomplete. His master had been wrong. Being alone wasn’t inconsequential, it doomed one to failure. One night, when his thoughts were even louder than usual, he looked into the mirror, his viridian eye brilliant in the almost darkness of the fresher. That night, Qui-Gon broke the mirror and sprained his left hand. The morning after, he bought a coloured contact lens and when he looked in the mirror again, two azure eyes stared back. 

So the Jedi master drifted, anchorless. It was Yoda who finally went to find him. His sharp claws were tightly clenched around his gimmer stick, his eyes clouded, and his ears lowered. For once Qui-Gon was in his quarters, temple bound. The old master took one look at the lowered stores, the pots empty of earth or plants, the couch still covered with a sheet and invited Qui-Gon for tea to his quarters. 

“To Bandomeer go you will. Heard have I, that strong the Force is on this planet. Good it will do. Yes. Good for you it will be.” As Qui-Gon opened his mouth, the green Jedi struck his cane to the floor. “Obey you will! Of this moping no more I will take. Go you will or make you go I will!” 

So Qui-Gon went. Bandomeer was an agricultural world, base to the Agricorps. The living Force was indeed strong and for the first time since forever, Qui-Gon took a deep breath, his shoulder loosening, his mind opening to the Force. He felt cautiously optimistic about this new venture. 

He settled near an Agri corps base but did not mingle with them. Occasionally he would assist for harvest time or assist to some conferences that were being held. But mostly he kept to himself, letting the vibrant energy of the planet soothe him. Then one day came a visitor. A sharp knock to his door, clear and precise announced the new arrival, and when Qui-Gon opened the door, he was only mildly surprised to discover his former Master on his doorstep. 

The man was impeccable as always, sharp black clothes neatly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight, silvering beard and hair perfectly trimmed and combed, and a flowing cape hanging from his shoulders. Cool brown eyes assessed him from head to toes, not a flicker of emotion crossing Dooku’s face. 

“Qui-Gon! I had my suspicions. But to think that I would find you here!” When Qui Gon didn’t so much as smile, Dooku’s tone grew a bit sharper.

“Won’t you invite me in? Surely, I’ve taught you better manners than that! Or did all this time among farmers make you forget what civilisation is like? Why! If I didn’t know it was you, I would have thought it was Master Tyvvoka!”

“What are you doing here Master? I’m sure you’re not there to enquire after my health or you would have sought me before;”

Dooku gauged the rigidity of Qui Gon’s shoulders, and the hand that was clenched on the door of his home.

“You’re right Qui Gon. I had no intention of seeing you. I was just on my way to Serenno to pick something. But I heard you were there and made the decision to come. Seeing that you have so callously denied me the access to your home though, I bid you adieu.”

Before Qui Gon could even think of formulating a reply, Dooku went on. “This is the last time we see each other, my former padawan. I’m leaving the Jedi Order.” And after delivering that astonishing news, he sketched a bow, barely low enough to be polite and turned heels, leaving Qui Gon completely flabbergasted. 

His Master was leaving the Jedi Order…He had known of course of Dooku’s tendencies to clash with the Council, his ardent diatribes over how hypocritical the Jedi were, denying attachment and yet encouraging their Knights to seek their soulmates. 

Why deny Jedi the chance to know their birth family and yet push them to build a relationship with their soulmates? He had expressed time and time again his disdain for the very idea. No one should place anything before their commitment to the Force, certainly not some romantic notion such as soulmates.

In turmoil, Qui Gon left his abode to wander among the rolling planes. It was autumn there. The air was crisp, and he could track its path through his body with every breath he took. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Basic meditation, so simple, and yet it was the only thing he could do anymore. Since arriving here, the crippling loneliness and yearning had prevented him from reaching peace. 

He could no longer lose himself in the currents of the Force or even intertwine his own essence with those of the living things. He was cut adrift, no longer part of the vibrant tapestry of life, and so he withered, and his hair silvered. How did things become this way Qui Gon sometimes wondered.

Sitting cross-legged among the rolling hills, he tried to meditate. His thoughts were in too much turmoil. His teacher’s words kept ringing in his ears. Should he leave the Order too? How could he call himself a jedi when he couldn’t even attain a simple meditative state? When an initiate had more focus than he could currently ever hope to achieve? 

Was he right to cling to whispers of hope that he _had_ a soulmate somewhere? Wasn’t his eye enough proof? Round and round the questions kept bouncing around his head. The solitude clearly wasn’t doing anything for him. Dooku’s visit had rattled him down to the marrow of his bones and he needed to shake off the lingering effect.

Having made his decision, he got up and headed toward the enrichment zone where he knew that the AgriCorps workers tried to make life bloom. Maybe mingling with younglings would be the key to disperse the gloom left behind by Dooku. The trek was short, and he could see an unusual animation. 

A ripple disturbing the rhythmic ballet of the AgriCorps workers. Something somewhere was not where it should have been, and the mass had not had time yet to return to its smooth cadence. Frowning at the disrupted flow, Qui Gon went in search of the AgriCorps Master in charge of this area. After all, since he was here, he might as well help to the best of his abilities. 

He soon located a disgruntled Master and learned that one of their newest and most promising arrivals, a lad named Obi Wan Kenobi had been uprooted. Qui Gon briefly wondered how one life could matter so much in the scheme of things, but instead of voicing his doubts, he offered his help, which was accepted with great relief. 

So Qui Gon got to work, _really_ work for the first time since he landed there. His long silvering hair was gathered in a hasty bun at his nape, his long flowing sleeves tied so they wouldn’t get in the way, and he set to work. 

The land was low, he had to bend from great height so he could plough the earth with his hands and the Force. Not that the latter was a great help. It still slipped mostly though his fingers, but the feeling of dirt under his fingernails, of the pliant earth beneath his hands settled his rattling thoughts. He sowed the grains the Master had given him in the earth, and time slipped by. Bend, plough, sow. Bend, plow, sow, again, and again.

His back protestations could easily be ignored as he lost himself in the choreography as old as mankind. The Force may still have been just out of his reach, but he could feel the presence of dozens of force-sensitive younglings surrounding him. So lost was he that the hand that suddenly dropped on his shoulder made him startle and swear as he lost his footing and went sprawling in the dirt. 

So much for a jedi master dignity. With the taste of dirt in his mouth, dark soil all over his beige tunics and hair plastered with sweat, he was a sorry sight. But he felt better than he had in years. The boisterous laughter that escaped the Ithorian Master when he saw him was contagious and soon Qui Gon was laughing with him, as he flopped on his back.

The master was easily as tall as him, with a long neck that curved upward in a ninety-degree angle. Twin mouths opened up on either side of the neck in boisterous laughter. His eyes perched atop of his neck were almost closed in mirth. His glossy leathery skin shined with sweat. 

“Thank you, friend. You did a great job today.” Said the Master as he helped Qui Gon back on his feet. The Ithorian’s accent was quite strong, and Qui Gon struggled to understand him, although the sentiment was clear. He laughed again.

“I’m the one who should thank you. After all you let me work with you even if I’m not part of the Agricorps”.

“Every hand available is a welcome help Master Jinn.” The other master said which made Qui Gon startle ever so slightly.

“You know who I am?”

“Oh everyone knows of you Master Jinn and your ability in the Living Force. My name is Ortar Frumas pleasure to meet you. I’m glad to know rumours were true. You are indeed gifted. We would gladly welcome you back anytime you want to give us a hand.” Qui Gon didn’t need to ponder the offer before he shook the AgriMaster hand.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said. “Although, I am curious. Don’t you have any Agri robot to help you with the work?”

“We do! But it does these younglings some good to work with the earth directly”

Qui Gon couldn’t deny that seeing how good he felt despite the sweat having drenched his tunics and plastered his hair to his skin. He was also smelly but couldn’t care more about it for now. His mind was clear, his body aching with the good kind of tiredness. He thanked the Master again and went back home to shower away the dirt and sweat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this early early chapter

Years passed and despite Qui Gon never officially joining the Agricorps he became something of a permanent fixture there, welcoming the newly arrived bunch of initiates from the Temple, helping every year for the seeding and harvesting periods and sometimes organising guided group of meditation to help his young flock better grasp the flow of the Living Force.

He had learned to work around his stunted ability to dive and lose himself in the bright currents of the Force, but he still retained enough ability to encourage his young charges to make the leap.

Coming from a city-planet that soared up thousands of levels above the ground, the lush Bandomeer was a novelty. The Living Force was wild, leaping at their fingertips and most of the lost little ducklings that winded up here were almost frightened of it. It was nothing like the gentle Force of the lovingly tended gardens in the Temple, the earth had a mind of its own. It was a hardy thing and it did not always listen.

When he had first set foot on Bandomeer, he had heard sounds of a dispute with a mining company called Offworld but the dispute seemed to have settled without much of a fuss and Offworld slowly disintegrated and was absorbed by the Agricorps. Soon more than two decades had passed since he had first settled there, and though he wasn’t happy per se, his soul was a still a yearning chasm after all, he felt content. Time slipped slowly and steadily through his fingers, grains of sand in the giant hourglass of his life, in a gentle rhythm. Until it was all shattered by a comm call.

“You want me to WHAT?” he bellowed in the face of a very aggrieved Mace Windu

“We want you to go to Naboo”

“I won’t. It’s on the other side of the galaxy. Why don’t you ask someone else?”

“There _is not_ someone else Qui Gon. The Chancellor has personally requested that you be sent to Naboo. Chancellor Vallorum doesn’t seem to be aware of your… _retirement_ ”

“I’m a farmer Mace!” Qui Gon resisted the urge to tug at his hair. Twenty years he hadn’t needed to speak with the council. Let’s say he hadn’t missed the exercise.

“You are a Jedi Qui Gon! Your duty is to the Republic. The mission briefing has been sent on your datapad and the Agricorps are ready to lend you a ship so you can leave as soon as possible.”

Qui Gon didn’t even have time to formulate an incendiary retort that the connexion was cut short. In. And out. In and out. Just like what he taught his young flock. But Mace Windu had a knack for completely shattering his serenity and leaving him grasping at straws.

He closed his eyes for a moment trying to regain his composure and nearly sent the datapad flying across the room when the notification of a new message, his mission briefing without a doubt pinged. Waiting for a few more moments, he took a look at his humble home. It wasn’t much but it had been his home for more than twenty years and he had a feeling he wouldn’t see it for a long time.

It didn’t take long to pack his things, a pair of spare tunics and robes, a rebreather, his lightsaber, that Qui Gon clipped to his utility belt and he was ready to go. If the Agricorps provided him with a ship, he would certainly have some food on board or at least the means to cook his meal. 

The trip was short. when arriving at the AgriCorps base, he was swiftly directed to the landing pad and his ship. It was an old rusty thing, but Qui Gon knew it was sturdy as all Agri Corps technology tended to be. 

This was no diplomatic ship equipped with luxury but it was spacious and Qui Gon was more than grateful for it. Space travel was difficult enough for him, cut as he was from the Living Force of any planet and from other people, since his trip was a solitary one. At least he wouldn't have to bend his frame to accomodate the cramped space. The Jedi Master was grateful, but as he took the first step into the ship, a loud voice rang out and he turned to see his friend.

"Qui Gon! Wait!" The Ithorian Master exclaimed. As he approached Qui Gon, his robes and tunic dirty as always, warmth bloomed in Qui Gon's chest.

"Ortar! You shouldn't have bothered really" he said. But his friend only huffed before enfolding Qui Gon into a hug.

"Be careful Qui Gon. You've told me of your luck or lack of thereof when it comes to missions, so may the Force be with you. Safe travel my friend."

"I will", answered Qui Gon, "I will". And disentangling himself from the hug, he finally boarded the ship for the long travel ahead. Once the ship had taken off and he had put in the coordinates for Naboo, and seen just how far it was, he cursed the Council anew for sending him on the other side of the galaxy. At least it gave him plenty of time to read the mission briefing.

In appearance his job was simple. He was sent to meet with the Trade Federation as an "ambassador" and try to take a gauge of the situation. It wasn't any different than a thousand other missions he had been sent on. But there were discrepancies. First of all, the fact that the Chancellor Supreme had asked for _him_ specifically, that this whole mission was classified, and that he had been recalled to duty twenty years after having been left in peace. 

He was cold, and from more than just the hyperspace, dread was pooling in his stomach and he was getting restless, a nervous energy zapping across his nerves like an itch that made him want to crawl out of his skin. 

He supposed he could try for some katas, but, and it was a rather foolish thought, since Jedi knew no pride, he was afraid. Afraid that his time on Bandomeer had made his skills rusty, afraid to hear whatever his crystal's song and the Force may want to tell him. So he didn't. Instead he bundled himself in his robes and went to the sleeping quarters, hoping to rest.

He was not so lucky. Sleep did not visit him. When he finally dropped out of hyperspace, Qui Gon had only managed to meditate a bit. It wasn't surprising really that the meeting went to hell. Qui Gon was only surprised at how quick it had all been. 

He had not even met the representative from the Trade Federation before they had tried to kill him. Exhaustion was already weighing him down and he had only just managed to escape on a Space Federation craft and _finally_ land on Naboo. He would have loved the planet under any other circumstances. But not today. 

Today he was saddled with a loud native and despite his tendency to attract strays, he would have prefered to do without this particular stray. It turned out that Jar Jar was not as useless as he had feared and instead led him straight to his people and leader. Time was of the essence, he was tired, and in no mood to waste his words. A simple gesture of the hand, and he had secured Jar Jar's liberty and a craft to reach Naboo's capital city. 

They emerged in the middle of the city and despite being almost blinded by the contrast of luminosity, Qui Gon's breath was knocked out of his chest. Nature hugged the capital as far as the eye could see from the river to the trees. The light-toned stone from the building echoed and complimented the limpid water, the green of the trees was answered by the copper-green domes. 

Nature and architecture weren't at odds with one another, they lived in symbiosis and Qui Gon's heart ached at the sight. Theed seemed to merge in its surroundings. Civilisation hadn't tamed and eradicated nature, as on Coruscant, neither did it fail to take root as it did in Bandomeer, the rolling hills and plains mostly free of any ugly industrial gash.

No time to waste, no matter how much he wanted to admire more of Theed. He had a mission to carry on and a Queen to warn. He navigated the street of the capital until he heard the rattling noises and metallic voices of droids. Following his ears, he sneaked through a covered walkway overlooking a courtyard. He hid behind delicate pillars and dropped to the ground as soon as the queen and her retinue were in view, promptly bisected the droids. 

He got his first look at the queen. A white face concealed by carefully applied makeup, a black attire covering her from head to toes, hair hidden under a black veil, Qui Gon wasn't sure if he was faced with a wraith or a mourner rather than a queen. Although considering the state of her planet, maybe the mourning attire was appropriate. 

Conversation was short, they needed to take the Queen to safety, meaning they had to get off the planet. Surprisingly, he didn’t have much difficulty convincing the queen’s advisor and her security force team to leave Naboo. Only the queen was reluctant to leave her people and Qui Gon respected her for that. Unfortunately, it also wasn’t an option.

In the end, securing them a transport was the easiest part of this mission. Their ship was a sleek royal Nubian cruiser. Once again, the aesthete Nubians showed their mastery. All organic curves and sleek beauty, Qui Gon thought he could almost taste the Living Force from this bird of chrome. Perfection was indeed achieved when there was nothing left to remove. Unfortunately it also meant that space was scarce and the ceiling low. So Qui Gon braced himself for a long journey.


	3. Chapter 3

As it turned out, leaving the planet was more difficult than they had planned and the ship was damaged, hyperdrive leaking into space. They drifted toward the Arkanis sector and the planet Tatooine where they hoped to repair their hyperdrive. As soon as Qui Gon set foot on the planet he swore to bring calamity on Mace's head sooner rather than later. 

The heat was scorching, the wind and sand tore at his eyes, skin and clothes, blinding him. He couldn't feel the Living Force of this planet. Like every other life here, it hid, just outside of reach or it slipped through fingers like sand. They managed to make their way to the nearest town and finally entering the cool interior of a junk dealer's shop was a welcome relief. Things got  _ complicated  _ quickly.

Republic credits were worthless here, Toydarians were apparently immune to Force suggestion, he couldn't very well sell Queen Amidala's wardrobe and risk having one of the young handmaidens that doubled as bodyguards cut his throat for it. He didn't even have time to recoup because as soon as he set foot inside again, his Force sense was assaulted. 

Qui Gon stumbled, caught himself by reflex against the door of the courtyard, almost falling over the steps. A nova was blazing inside the little shop so brightly it blinded him, crippled his sense of the Force. If it had been a stomp before, still there but diminished, now Qui Gon almost cried in anguished because he couldn't feel  _ anything  _ at all through the Force, except for that star. 

It commanded every Force sensitive’s attention from miles and miles around, and couldn't be ignored, eclipsing everything else entirely. Carefully, Qui Gon picked himself up again, feeling unbalanced, like one would when trying to use a phantom limb. The nova was a boy. Hair bleached blond by the twin suns, he seemed to be very engrossed with Padme and for the first time Qui Gon was struck by how young she really was, only a teenager.

Still feeling wrong footed, Qui Gon let the boy take them to his home and his mother and despite some awkward interactions, the hours whiled away pleasantly. The sandstorm had long passed when he went outside. He needed out. There wasn't much room in a slave's house no matter how ingeniously Schmi(Shmi?) had organised her home. Close proximity with Anakin was also something he wanted to avoid. Standing too close to a star is scorching and Qui Gon craved the coolness of the night and stars to appease the pain.

As he sat there, on the terracotta low wall in the desert night, he longed for the heavenly vault he had seen above his home on Bandomeer for years. He remembered another time and place when looking at the indigo of the firmament, and it made him wonder if his soulmate was looking at the same sky and thinking of him. He resisted the urge to remove his lense. He hadn't done so in years. He wouldn't start now.

Still, something kindled in his veins. A faint stirring in his blood, heady like fine wine. Qui Gon lightly swayed in place, in tune with the liquid beat of his slightly accelerated heart. A pull, gentle yet insistent nestled under his breast. And his Force sense, that had been crippled since earlier this day slowly began to unfurl again, swelling and expanding outside of his body. 

He could feel Anakin, but it did not render him sightless as it did before. He felt the grains of sand swept by the desert wind, each of them carrying a memory of a forever changing form. He felt the other life-forms, humans and animals alike. Further away, deep into the desert, he felt something else. He could only brush it before it evaded him.

Shmi's voice, calling him, put a definite end to the spell. Light-headed, somehow stumbling, he cautiously made his way inside and filed this strange interlude away. Padme and Anakin were already asleep somewhere, but Shmi was still sitting at the table. 

"You called me?" he asked as he carefully joined Shmi at the table and sat. She wouldn't look at him in the eyes and her voice was quiet but firm.

"Would you lay with me tonight?" she asked and Qui Gon promptly almost choked.

"I am very sorry my lady, but I fear I can't accept your request", and Force, his embarrassment must have shown because for the first time she looked at him straight in the eyes and laughed.

"Nothing like that Master Jinn. I just miss having someone to hold onto into these cold nights. My Ani is already nine and thinks he is all grown up. He doesn't come to me anymore." 

"Then I would be honored," replied Qui Gon.

They made their way to her chamber and Qui Gon took his poncho to lay over them both as they settled for the night. When all the lights had been extinguished, and they had found a way to both fit in the cramped little bed, Shmi spoke into the darkness.

"What are your plans, Master Jinn? And what is it that you want with my Ani ?" Qui Gon sighed. He wondered briefly if he should tell her the truth or make her sleep. But obscurity invited honesty. And he realised that the offer had not entirely been made out of loneliness. So he relented and delivered his answer in the same hushed voice the inquiry had been made.

"I don't know what I am doing, my lady. I am flying blind since I left my home and everything about this mission defies expectations. We need money and we have none, only Republic credits."

"Doesn't the little queen have anything of value?"

"Maybe," Qui Gon admitted. "But we did leave the planet in a hurry. I doubt she had time to pack a full wardrobe."

"I was a slave to Garuda once. I could help. If the little queen has any brooch or jewelry it could be useful. Gardulla is greedy and likes gold in any form."

"There is a podrace tomorrow….Won't Anakin participate?"

"He won't," and for the first time, Shmi's voice was durasteel hard. "He's only nine and is not invincible.”

"But the Force is strong with him, it must have helped him multiple times before, faster reflexes, seeing things before they happen."

"I see where you are going Master Jinn, but I won't endanger my son like this. Talk to the little Queen but do not ask me to sacrifice my son." Chastised Qui Gon stopped his inquiries. 

He could have bet on Anakin and with the money from winning the race he would have been able to buy the parts needed. But faced with Shmi’s adamant refusal, and his lack of anything to bet, he couldn't go on with this plan. They stayed quiet for a while, quiet breaths slightly out of sync filling the air. Neither of them were asleep.

As they often did before sleep, Qui Gon's thoughts again turned towards his soulmate and his quiet longing.

"You are lonely," Shmi said quietly. Not a question. And once again she caught him off-guard.

"Do you share your son's abilities my lady ?" he deflected. She sighed.

"I can sense how other people are feeling, but I am a slave Master Jinn and this quality is useful. I am nothing like my Ani, " she sighed deep and weary.

This marked the end of their hushed conversation and Shmi quietly drifted into sleep, but Qui Gon couldn't follow her. He wasn't here to free slaves. Force! He wasn't even supposed to be here, but he swore he would do everything he could to free this mother and her son. Bandomeer would be a welcome change from this arid life.

The morning dawned bright and early. Qui Gon hadn't slept one wink and had meditated the night away. Padme cornered him after breakfast, eyes flashing, chin jutted out and Qui Gon smiled. He had had his doubts of course when the Queen had kept subtly glancing back at this handmaiden back on Naboo before making a decision. Today she had abandoned any pretense of playing a subdued handmaiden.

"I need to go back to Naboo Master Jinn and I want to know our plans," she demanded.

"Does the Queen have any jewelry she could sell, pearls, gold, brooches and pins? Maybe even some fabric, although I'm not sure what interest the inhabitants of a desert planet would have for the heavy fabrics favored by the Nubians…"

Padme frowned. "The Queen did bring part of her wardrobe, but why would you consider it?" Qui Gon opened his arms.

"As you can see your Majesty, I have nothing of value on me, and we need credits to buy the parts necessary to repair our leaking hyperdrive." 

"I am sure that a Jedi's crystal is worth far more than some wasteful fabric Master Jinn." Padme said a mix between mischievous and guarded. Qui Gon sighed.

"I can't. A jedi's lightsaber is his life and that would leave you without protection."

"Every handmaiden knows her way around a blaster Master Jinn, do not underestimate us!"

"I don't!" Qui Gon asserted. It took all his training not to remind the girl that she was only fourteen and that he knew far more about the dangers they could face than she. A blaster was a handy thing but far from enough, especially since most of the Nubian retinue was still on the ship.

"But it is our only viable option at this point, so please, would you contact the ship and tell them to see if there's anything we can sell? Lady Skywalker agreed to help."

It seemed he had finally gotten around the Queen's barriers and she nodded decisively.

"Very well. I will contact the Queen and we will proceed from there." 

It turned out the Queen had indeed lots of jewelry that could fetch a hefty price and by the time they had managed to finally collect enough trinkets that Qui Gon could take back to Shmi to sell them, the Jedi Master was suitably impressed. He didn't ask Shmi if he could accompany her to the Hutts. It wasn't his place and Anakin's mother had been firm that she didn't need any of the outsiders to come with her.

Hours passed and Shmi did not come back. Anakin had gone to the market with some of the jewelry to sell what Shmi hadn't taken with her, and was now back into his home, tinkering with his droid and angrily muttering because he couldn't go and see the race. At least the shop was closed so Watto wouldn't inquire about the slaves' absence.

The day wrapped up and finally Shmi came back. Between Padme, Anakin and Qui Gon, they had managed to cobble dinner together. Shmi sat tiredly and collapsed in a chair. Exchanging a look with the Queen, they agreed to not ask questions before everyone had eaten. Dinner was a quiet affair. Miraculously Anakin managed to hold himself in check despite literally bouncing in his chair.

Night had settled and eventually Shmi got up and came back with a credit chip that she put on the table. Anakin, following his mother's example, came back with credits.

"Here you should have enough money now to buy the parts you need Master Jedi. But don't linger too long on Tatooine. The Hutts are a greedy bunch and Gardulla's goldlust and curiosity have been awoken." Qui Gon nodded decisively.

"With this money we won't be long. We will buy the parts, repair the hyperdrive and be on our way to Coruscant. Thank you to both you and Anakin for your hospitality and your help."

As Padme, Anakin and Shmi retired one by one, Qui Gon sat at the table, counting the money. It was enough to buy the parts they needed but not enough to buy Anakin's freedom let alone his mother. He closed his eyes and resisted letting his head drop on the table. He wanted to free them. He couldn't. He felt a presence and opened his eyes to see Padme.

"If we manage to take back our planet, our first act as reinstated Queen will be to buy their freedom, for if this happens, it will be thanks to them." And Qui Gon's heart ached at this brave and passionately sincere Queen. He wouldn't point out that she had slipped up and thanked her instead.

The day after was a busy one, their little retinue went to Watto's shop to negotiate the parts and it wasn't as terrible as Qui Gon feared. He was in no mood for lengthy transactions, but it seemed that Watto wasn't either. Still high from the money he had won betting on Sebulba the day before, he was in an quite agreeable mood. 

Eventually it was time to leave and they made their goodbyes to Anakin and Shmi, beginning the return journey to the ship. They had already left the town's outskirts behind them when something shifted in the Force. 

A frisson like the first note of flute being played. And a beat. Qui Gon's blood began pounding, and the more he picked up their pace to reach the ship the clearer the odd notes became, the more his urgency grew until he was shouting at Padme to run to the ship and leave him behind.

Louder and louder the drumming in the Force became until the cacophony of it was deafening. Qui Gon spun. His lightsaber ignited. A whirlwind of black robes and red blade somersaulted over his head. Harsh white light and a cloud of sand were blinding him and all the time the damn clamor in his head hadn't stopped. 

Muscle memory and instincts took over. A parry there, an attack here, but he was already on the defensive. A searing pain tore at his arms and the first blade joined the first in a deadly ballet. Qui Gon could taste the bloodlust on his tongue like a heady wine. Everything was spinning, reality was reduced to the blurry lights of two deadly blades. Red. It was red his mind howled at him. He didn't have time to process the information. He was too busy not dying on this remote planet.

His opponent was all fluidity, slipping past his guard and evading his attacks but his own were brutal. He was in the throes of a strange pleasure, feeling more alive than he ever had before, locked in this wild destructive dance. 

His saber was an extension of himself and he couldn't remember why he had been so afraid of picking it up before. If only he could see more of his opponent than the blur of dark robes and red sabers…

A sound louder than the tumult in his head registered at last. The roar of engines. His salvation near, it was his turn to break the embrace. Running toward the sound of the ship, he leaped, landing safely on the ship's boarding ramp. 

He was safe. Out of danger. And yet as they left the battle behind, the song in his blood and soul died down, leaving him strangely bereft as he tried to find his breath again, sprawled on the ship's cool floor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 4 with the most breathtaking art from kyber_erso, thank you so much! Go check their instagram and tumblr (https://kyber-erso.tumblr.com) to give them some love! Their art is simply amazing.

Coruscant was a disaster from start to finish. The council refused to believe Qui Gon about the red-bladed warrior, and some even disputed his claim about the nova-child, shaking their heads in denial, and Qui Gon was getting more and more frustrated. He wasn't the one who asked for that mission. Neither did he ask for it to go to hell, and yet it did. If the Council wanted to berate him for going off the rails, they only had themselves to blame. They knew how his missions tended to go.

There was no sense in arguing his cause further. The council didn't want to hear anything. He was summarily dismissed from their presence and didn't bother bowing to them before leaving the council chamber. He stamped around the temple, trying to find his assigned quarters for the duration of his stay. He had not been here for long and already he longed to depart from the planet. The city was closing in on him from every side, and he couldn't breathe through the cloying pollution of the air. 

He hoped things were going better for Amidala than for him, but he held little hope. The obese and nerveless beast that was the galactic Senate was not likely to be moved by a pledge even as passionate as Queen Amidala's was bound to be. Still he hoped for the Force to be with her.

As he arrived in his quarters, in the guest wing of the temple, he couldn't help but look around maybe hoping for recognition and a sense of home to strike at last. The quarters were not so different from the ones he had lived in all these years before: a window with blinds, a fresher and a little room with a closet and a bed. It was spartan and completely impersonal. A fresh set of tunics had been laid on the bed and Qui Gon decided to take advantage of the fresher. He had no desire to sleep in this cold and metal room. After relishing in the luxury of a hot shower, finally being able to scrub his skin from all the sand that had stuck to him all the way from Tatooine and donning the fresh tunics, he went in search of the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

As he made his way through the cavernous corridors, the cowl of his robe obscuring his face, he prayed to the Force that no one would accost him. Catching up with the Temple residents wasn't on his agenda at all. He craved peace and quiet, hoping to restore some semblance of order to his mind and find his balance again. He had had no time at all to process anything ever since leaving Naboo behind. Finally he stood in front of the doors of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and he let the gentle feeling of it wash over him and soothe his troubled mind.

The air was warm and moist, the sounds of the Temple's ventilation system fading out to be replaced by the soft chirping of the birds, the serene rustling of sleeves and the pleasant rippling of flowing water. The Living Force was a balm on his frazzled nerves, encompassing him in the Force's embrace. The glowing currents that had escaped him for so long leaped at his fingerprints. He felt welcome and whole as if his life's thread had finally found it's rightful place in the weaving tapestry of the Force.

Never had the room felt like that and Qui Gon was puzzled, but too tired to ponder what had changed. He began meandering among this verdant cathedral, where almost every single plant was taller than him, without taking any of the trees into account. Fragrant flowers bloomed along his path, and he could see the stars of the fake night sky shine brightly over him. 

He let his hand trail delicately over every plant, until finally he stepped out of the stone pathways near one of the fountains into a grove of lithe trees each leaning towards each other like a cradle. It was never cold in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and it wouldn't be the first time Qui Gon had used his cloak as a cover. The ground was soft and the Jedi Master laid down on it gratefully. 

He was tired to the marrow of his bones, and as soon as his head had touched the soft ground, he was asleep, lulled by the lush Living Force all around him. When he awoke the next morning, his limbs made their displeasure known, and his joints cracked loudly. Nevertheless, he felt more refreshed than he had been in a long time. The wondrous feeling of last night had not faded in the daylight, like he had begun to find his place in this lonely galaxy. He uncurled himself from his sleeping position on the ground and kneeled in meditation. 

Circumstances being what they were, his meditation had to be short. Qui Gon did not doubt for one second that a comm message from the council was already waiting for him in his quarters. No matter. The venerable body could wait, and it was early still. The rosy-fingered dawn was still lingering in the sky. He had time still, as he let himself slowly sink down into meditation.

He felt the vegetation, wild and tame at the same time, the birds and small animals that populated the room, many of them still asleep. He felt his fellow Jedi, solitary lights roaming the corridors, he felt the vastness of the city-planet home to more than 1 trillion beings. Bit by bit, his awareness faded and the thread of his consciousness intertwined itself with all the others around him, merging in the grand pattern of the Living Force. There was another thread, it's color like a wine-dark sea, that glowed brightly among all the other threads of Coruscant and it called to him. But the thread stubbornly slipped from his fingers. 

He tried to grasp it and follow it and instead Qui Gon lurched back to consciousness, back into his body, flesh and bones. The luminous thread snapped and he lost his connection to the Force. Off balance, he almost crashed to the ground only to come face to face with Mace Windu. The man's face didn't betray anything but Qui Gon could swear the bastard was smirking at him. He scowled in return.

"What do you want?" the long-haired master asked scathingly.

"Nothing. I am just enjoying you making a spectacle of yourself. I had missed it." Qui Gon scowled even harder, despising the fact that he was still disorientated. 

"I asked, what are you doing here, Mace, except mocking me?"

"I had a hunch you wouldn't be in your quarters, my friend. And I wanted to see you as Mace and not Councilor Windu. We have time for this later."

Qui Gon mellowed a bit and finally managed to sit cross legged beside Mace.

"I'm doing well, my friend."

"Have you actually found what you were looking for?" Qui Gon flinched at that and was thankful to Mace when he dropped the subject.

"The Council was up all night you know, discussing your latest... _ exploits. _ "

"You were the one who gave me the mission!  _ I _ am  _ not  _ responsible for this mess. You only have yourself to blame!" This time it was Mace who winced.

"The Chancellor asked for you, specifically, my friend. We couldn't say no, and you know it."

And despite all his years away from the Temple, Qui Gon did know. He knew how the Jedi were placed under the supervision of the Senate and it's Supreme Chancellor. Despite what the galaxy liked to think the Jedi were no vigilante wielding a magic laser sword. They were diplomats answering to the Republic and they seemed to have less and less leeway as years passed. Qui Gon was aware of that. But he still resented the Council for plucking him out of his semi-retirement and thrusting him in the middle of a political mess. Speaking of.

"How did young Amidala fare at the Senate? Was she heard?” Unvoiced but still present between them was the accusation that once again the Council had not listened to Qui Gon. He was dismayed to see Mace's face darken. If his friend was troubled, the news really wouldn't be good.

"There was a vote of no confidence and Valorum was replaced by Naboo's senator Palpatine. The Senate refused to grant her request or even to listen to her pledge. I don't like it, Qui Gon. There are troubled times ahead of us and I'm afraid we are sending you back into the thick of it."

"What do you mean?"

"I prefer to tell you this now, and let you know before the official Council summons, but you are to escort Queen Amidala back to Naboo and resume your duties as bodyguard until a solution is found." Qui Gon was getting angrier with each word that left his friend's mouth.

"Didn't the Council listen to a damn word of what I said? The Sith are back Mace! And you want me to face it again? When I barely escaped the first time? I do not have a death wish yet," he thundered!

He rose from the ground. "Please. Go back Mace. I won't hear anymore of this. I will return to Naboo because I can't let the young Queen be alone in this, but the Council is making a grave mistake." Incensed, Qui Gon stormed out of the Room of a Thousand Fountains back to his rooms and his pack. There was indeed a message from the Council on his comm asking him to present himself in an hour. If the fools thought his anger would have died down by then they were only deluding themselves.

The hour flew by and the Council meeting went about as well as Qui Gon had guessed, meaning it had been nothing short of a disaster. Now safely enclosed in the Nubian royal ship, his anger simmered down. He had forgotten how exhausting dealing with the Council could be and he needed his equilibrium back. The circumstances were less than ideal unfortunately. The space was cramped, the recycled air was bone dry and the cold was seeping through his clothes. 

He was also out of touch with the Living Force, hyperspace leaving him restless, unable to connect to the stars that passed them by. He felt oddly adrift without the earth under his feet. Coruscant had already been an unpleasant experience, all durasteel, transparisteel and life-forces crammed atop of each other. Coruscant was paradoxically too much and not enough at the same time. Too many life-forms, a complete cacophony and not enough of the steady slow beat of the earth. Once again, he resolved to sleep and let time slip by. 

His robes were warm and still smelled faintly of petrichor, damp earth from the perpetual moist atmosphere of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, a nostalgic smell, bittersweet in memories. It smelled like Bandomeer, the strong earth toiled by generations of Agri workers, the plains glistening after the rain. it smelled like home and it lulled Qui Gon to sleep.

The voyage was lonely, and tensions ran high. The Queen was nowhere to be seen and neither was Padme. The closed door of their quarters a sharp contrast to their chief of security Panaka pacing up and down whenever he was not with the royal retinue. Qui Gon knew why. He had also argued with the Queen. Returning to Naboo was akin to political suicide. She would be forced to sign the treaty she had fled and it would be the end. 

Qui Gon was also a Jedi and he refused to fight a war for her. The pilots were uncharacteristically silent, words kept to a minimum. Even Jar Jar Binks was seemingly affected. His buffoonery subdued. Qui Gon knew the Queen had asked something of thim, although he was not privy to what exactly. It didn't really matter. He would find out soon enough when the time was right.

Landing on Naboo was a relief. It was short lived. The Gungan had disappeared from their underwater city, maybe taken to the camps with the rest of Naboo's population. The assumption turned out to be a mistake. They were not taken, they were hidden. Qui Gon was surprised to hear the young Queen ask for an alliance, she wasn't much older than the younglings he welcomed on Bandomeer but she was much more shrewd and politically savvy. He was impressed despite himself and suppressed a smirk when Padme finally revealed herself. Fortune did favor the bold after all, and this time was no exception. The meeting ended with the Queen having gained allies and an army.

But Qui Gon was getting distracted, there was something, a smell in the air not unlike the taste of cork taint in wine, moldy and damp and Qui Gon shivered despite the hot humid air. It grew as they went back to the ship, towards the palace. It drowned any other smell by the time they docked in the hangar bay. 

A lone figure draped in the folds of a dark cloak was waiting for them, poised and coiled. And Qui Gon knew what he had been smelling. It was the dark side. The being, the same one he had dueled on Tatooine casually stood there in the middle of enemy territory, his stance falsely casual. No weapon in sight.

The air trembled, echoed by the quiver of a cord deep within Qui Gon. Noiseless notes slid around his spine as he divested himself of his cloak. He heard himself say from far away that he would take on the enemy, that the Queen should continue without him. He ignited his lightsaber, and the being did the same, revealing a dark wine red blade that he twirled insolently. Qui Gon already knew the fighting prowess of his opponent and was determined to do better this time. The other's face was still obscured by his hood, but Qui Gon could easily see the power in the slim and compact frame of the dark figure.

Neither of them moved for a moment. The hangar had fallen silent all around them. No sound of battle or droids, even though the air carried the acrid smell of smoke, under the stronger and pungent smell of the wine that wouldn't disappear. Finally, almost lazily, the figure began to retreat, clearly in no hurry. Qui Gon followed, saber raised. Indecision plagued him. Should he attack now? Ataru was acrobatic and the grand hangar was the perfect terrain for it, who knew if he would keep such an advantage wherever his opponent led him? 

The dark man beckoned him confidently, and a few strands of rich copper slipped out of the hood. Qui Gon lunged. He fell on his opponent in a deluge of fast strikes and acrobatic jumps, blood pounding in his ears. But he was parried each and every time, his blade always encountering the other's. The dark figure avoided one of his strikes, and carried by his momentum, Qui Gon lost his balance and fell, the impact knocking the breath out of him for a brief instant. In the time it took him to come back to his feet, the other had opened a set of heavy reinforced doors behind which he glimpsed a world of metal and light.

He was already winded, breath coming out in short bursts, and off balance, knowing he was being led somewhere but still unable to escape his opponent. The air felt electric, every hair on his body rising to attention. Danger or excitement he couldn't tell. Still he had no choice but to follow the dark one. Fear began to claw at him. Qui Gon was losing the battle before it had even really begun. 

He ran to his opponent, ignoring the pungent taste of wine and the wild swirl of the dark side that threatened to overwhelm him. He engaged the fight again. But he was off-kilter, as if his center of gravity had suddenly shifted without his awareness and now resided outside his body. A kick to his shins made him stagger back. He retaliated. Kicked the figure in the gut with the butt of his lightsaber and backhanded him. The other fell. Down the catwalks, deeper and deeper into Theed's bowels. 

Qui Gon jumped down to his opponent’s level, and landed precariously on another one of the narrow catwalks that wound in between the pillars of violet light. Blood roaring, he gave chase to the dark man, locking his lightsaber with the other's and not letting go. Never breaking stride, he hammered at the other's defense, using his greater build to try to make his opponent physically yield.

Too late did he realise they were now in between a new set of doors, until he was almost caught up in the laser beans that shot from the walls effectively severing his connection with his opponent. He almost sagged to the floor. The battle was taking his toll, a nasty stitch was lacerating his right flank, and his ribs still hurt from the fall before. He fell to his knees on the floor and tried to regain his breath and his balance.

He refused to close his eyes and instead took to observe his opponent clearly for the first time. His hood had fallen back sometimes during their fight revealing a wild mop of flaming copper hair and braids. He was unfairly beautiful. Golden eyes, sharp jaw and cleft chin.The left side of his face was taken over by a beautiful swirling vine tattoo. In spite of his better sense, Qui Gon was mesmerized. The man paced back and forth on the other side of the laser rays, in contrast to Qui Gon's stillness. He was prowling, his eyes never leaving Qui Gon. At least the fascination seemed mutual.

The beams retracted and Qui Gon soared. He thought for a moment that he had the high ground. The copper haired-sith, for that's what he was and Qui Gon should never forget it. His assaults were unrelenting but his arms were tiring, air felt scarce, and sweat plastered his clothes and hair against his skin. But the other was retreating, skirting around a deep pit, the only exit to this dead end in which Qui Gon had been drawn. Too late he saw the feint for what it was. And it was his turn to beat a hasty retreat. He was being crowded, barely meeting the other's blows now.

Taking advantage of his weakness, his opponent rammed the butt of his lightsaber under his shin. Stars blinded Qui Gon's vision, his lightsaber slipped from his fingers and the pounding in his head rose to deafening levels. That was the end. He would die here with the taste of wine on his tongue and wine-red blade through his chest. When the fatal blow came, Qui Gon was waiting for it. He knew it was coming. 

It did not make the pain any less terrible. It seared through his entrails, and for a moment he was nothing more than suffering. But instead of falling to his knees or worse in the pit, gentle hands lowered him to the floor. He was delicately laid, soft fingers framing his face. The last thing he heard before the dark overtook him, so low he wasn't even sure he hadn't dreamed the words were a faint "I'm sorry". Before he had even time to ponder who his mysterious savior was, dark oblivion engulfed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The posting schedule has changed and this story will now be updated bi-weekly on wednesday and sunday


	5. Chapter 5

Qui Gon woke up. And didn't understand. Was he dead? If so, he would have prefered not to suffer the utter misery. He ached. Everywhere. From the tip of his hair to his soles of his feet. And realised abruptly that he couldn't feel his feet. In fact he could barely feel anything, let alone the Force. He panicked. With racing breaths and a pounding heart, he tried to open his eyes. Did he survive? How? If so, where was he ? A sound pierced his manic confusion. The crazed blipping of a heart monitor. Not dead then. He had no time to ponder this thought and he went under again.

He awoke several times, always confused, never managing to stay awake for long, only dimly aware of a dance going on around him. Finally Qui Gon succeeded in keeping awake for more than a few seconds. And promptly scowled or at least tried to. Because Mace was here. By his bedside. 

"What are you doing here?" Qui Gon glowered, or tried to. His throat was full of gravel. Only an intelligible rumble escaped him. Fortunately Mace seemed to understand him.

"Peace, Qui Gon. You worried me, my friend." That didn't really surprise him. The few things Qui Gon could feel told him clearly that he wasn't in good shape. But try as he might, he couldn't recall why he ended up in this state. 

"You spent weeks in bacta, Qui Gon. The healers were worried. Even when they let you out, you couldn't stay awake for long and you never seemed aware of where you were." Mace's quiet voice did not shake, but Qui Gon knew him well enough to see the traces of stress.

"You were lucky though. No major blood vessels or organs were touched. It's a miracle, the saber went through your back, but the heat instantly cauterized everything and you were in no danger of bleeding out. But the shock almost got you." At the word "saber" Qui Gon had stopped listening. 

He remembered now. He remembered the copper-haired Sith, the debilitating pain and the nauseating taste of wine on his tongue. The memory was almost enough to make him retch. His heart monitor went wild and Mace had to put a grounding hand on his shoulder to keep him from being submerged. He even brought Qui Gon a cup of water to sip carefully.

"Mace," Qui Gon croaked, once he was better, "where…."

"We don't know, Qui Gon. Your opponent vanished as if he had never existed," the dark skinned Jedi master sighed. 

"There is…….one thing I think I should mention to you, Qui Gon. During the fight, it appeared as if you lost a contact lense."

Qui Gon was too surprised at his friend's uncharacteristic reluctance to even understand the implications of the statement.

"Your eye Qui, it changed."

"What do you mean it changed? Speak plainly Mace!" Qui Gon asked,

Mace hesitated once more, before finally delivering the news. "It's gold, Qui Gon." He said.

"G-gold? But how?" He didn't understand. His eyes weren't gold. Dark blue or blue-green, gray on some occasions, but never gold! Gold was the color of Sith! Did Mace think he had fallen to the dark side now? This? This was how the council rewarded him? By asking him if he had turned sith? But no. Mace had said that his contact had fallen, the one that hid his soulmate's eye……....

Nausea threatened again. Should he feel relieved? At last, it meant that his soulmate had been born, that they existed somewhere in this vast galaxy. But the eye was gold. Eyes didn't change color like that. The only conclusion Qui Gon reached again and again was that his soulmate was the one who had fallen. His soulmate was a Sith.

Violent despair swept through him and Qui Gon almost wished that the blade had killed him.

"It's not possible Mace! It must be a trick of the lights! Please!" But Mace was shaking his head sadly.

"I'm afraid not my friend. I had time to see it for myself before replacing your contact. It's indeed yellow."

"I can't Mace! I can't! Get out! Get OUT!" He nearly screamed the last words, frantic and desperate to be alone.

His soulmate was a Sith. Which until recently they had thought extinct for centuries. It was a Jedi’s sworn duty to guard against the darkness and gangrene that was the Sith and kill them. But Qui Gon had waited so long for them. The Force was a cruel mistress and he almost cursed her for it. Silent tears ran down his cheeks to disappear into his beard but he made no sounds. He would have pressed his fist to his mouth to stifle any sound if he had been able to, but there was no need. His devastation was utterly silent. If he ever met his soulmate, he would have to kill them. No matter the personal cost.

His soulmate was a sith. Just how many were there, festering in the shadows hidden from sight? He remembered the soft callused hands laying him carefully down and the whispered words of apology. Almost like a dream. Had he really heard those words or had delirium already set in? In all the chaos, he couldn't be sure. But what if he had  _ heard  _ those words? Who said them? The answer seemed obvious enough. There had been no one there in the deep recesses of Theed's generator. His head hurt, but his heart ached even more, dizziness threatened to send him back to oblivion. He didn't fight it. 

When he woke again, it was to the Healers busying themselves around his bed. He wondered vaguely why none of them had intruded on his chat with Mace when all his vitals were going haywire. But they were here now and he was the focus of their attention. He wanted to squirm. He had never liked going to the Healers, despite the beauty of the Healers Hall in the Jedi Temple.

"Master Jinn! Awake at last!"

"Where am I?" He croaked. He didn't recognize his surroundings, and his Force sense was still too muddled for him to assess where he was.

"On Naboo. Your injuries were too extensive and we couldn't move you off the planet." That only served as a reminder of how seriously wounded he was.

"How long?" he wheezed.

"How long have you been here? Weeks already. But if you're asking how much longer you are going to be stuck in here, I am afraid the answer is the same Master Jinn. Weeks. Your injuries are finally mostly healed but you will need to take it easy. And undergo rehabilitation. But that can be done on Coruscant. Queen Amidala has agreed to let you stay here on Naboo as long as you need to recover."

Naboo. He was on Naboo. Qui Gon closed his eyes deeply grateful for the young queen. It would be much easier to recover here among the lush greenery and sparkling water than on the stark city planet. Exhausted already, he let the healers fuss over him without much complaints, mind adrift.

"I'm sorry". Those words haunted him. If his suspicions were correct, the Sith he had fought on Tatooine and on Naboo was his soulmate. He had almost died at the hands of the most precious of beings. His heart rebelled against the notion despite everything hinting at the truth. He remembered the pull he had felt on Tatooine, how he had felt the presence of the Sith from halfway across the planet. And the Sith, no, his soulmate, somehow had known who Qui Gon was. And had still almost killed him. This was too much. Completely drained, he surrendered to sleep once again. 

Recovery was slow. Despite the blade not having touched any vital organ, and having healed without any major problem, it still gave painful twinges and aches. His mobility had also suffered. He couldn't wield his blade as he had once done and he had to give up Ataru. For a long time, he had to restrict himself to open handed katas. But he knew he couldn't rush the healing process. 

Returning to Coruscant was disorienting. Word of his fight with the Sith had spread through the Temple's rumor mill. It was talked about in hushed tones, murmurs behind his back that clung to the shadows of his cloak. Qui Gon took a vicious satisfaction when he finally stood in front of the Council again. Not only did the council believe him this time about the return of the Sith (it only took him being impaled on a Sith's blade for it to happen), but they  _ listened _ . The Sith had been young, somewhere around his mid twenties, and there weren't any doubts in Qui Gon's mind that it had been the  _ apprentice _ . He didn't linger on this terrifying thought. That was the council's job. 

But after being adrift for so long, letting himself be tossed around by the Force's currents, he finally had a purpose. His soulmate existed. Now he only had to find him again. And so he bullied Mace into accepting that Qui Gon searched for the Sith. It meant he had to give up this quiet existence on Bandomeer and it made his heart ache. He didn't know when he would prowl again the verdant hills surrounding the Agricorps base, but he still kept contact with his friend Ortar Frumas and it made the ache in his chest diminish, if only a little.

Tracking the Sith wasn't his main mission though. The Order was far too in demand and busy to spare their best knights now that he was back. No matter what Qui Gon had argued with Mace. They had left him alone for two decades on Bandomeer, what had changed? A lot as it turned out. Qui Gon didn't remember the galaxy being so bleak and troubled. 

Unrest seemed to grow everywhere, and despite pretty promises the new chancellor seemed unable to make anything move forward here on Coruscant. The Senate had always been an oversized uncooperative beast, lost among petty squabbles. Now it gave birth to a new committee pretty much every week to work on bills that never left the suffocating depths of the senatorial building.

Surprisingly, it's on Coruscant that he saw him again. He was in one the seedy bars of Coruscant’s underlevels. If information was to be found, those bars were a good place to start. Dex had been unable to help. He knew nothing of the honey-eyed Sith. But he had shrugged his massive shoulder and said that he would ask around. In the meantime, Qui Gon was reduced to cruising the clubs in his free time. And he is not happy. 

The pulsing bright neon lights hurt his eyes, the music is too loud, there are too many people crammed onto the dance floor, and the perpetual ballet of moving pictures from the view screens covering every wall doesn't help. But the bar is mostly empty and Qui Gon thanks all the little stars for that. He orders a drink. Some sort of colorful atrocity, he doesn't care, he's here to listen, not to drink.

The hours trickle down and Qui Gon is ready to call it a night when he feels a presence slide smoothly into the seat next to him. A clear note ripples in the Force. Slowly, ever so slowly, Qui Gon turns his head. In the artificial light and semi darkness, it's impossible to tell the color of his companion's hair, and his face is averted. When he hails the bartender for a drink, his voice carries a rich coruscanti accent. The clear tenor sends a shiver down Qui Gon's spine.

It's his turn to avert his face and refocus on his drink.

"What….what are you doing here?" he croaked. 

"I heard you were asking about me," answers his neighbor casually. "And I decided to come take a look."

"To finish what you couldn't on Naboo?" Qui Gon almost snarls, his heart in his throat. He raises his glass, intent to take a sip and settle his nerves. But his hands shake and his drink almost spills out.

"I……..no." the almost stranger answers, hushed. "But be careful master Jedi. You might not like what you find at the end of this road."

"How kind of you," Qui Gon replies, bitterness heavy on his tongue. He can almost taste it, the wine on the back of his tongue, if he focuses strongly enough. Qui Gon takes another sip of this drink, letting the alcohol burn his taste buds. No reply is forthcoming. No sounds come from his left. Yet Qui Gon waits for it. The background noise has long faded out of his awareness, and a false sense of intimity permeates the air around the two of them. 

Finally the rustling of clothes alerts Qui Gon of a change of disposition from his strange neighbor. He still doesn't look.

"My duty is done Master Jinn, I will leave you to your drink. Farewell and," the voice almost faltered, "….. come what may."

How strange Qui Gon muses. What would a Sith know about duty? He finally gathers the courage to turn his head but his companion is gone. How disconcerting. They had an entire conversation and yet nothing was said. Well nothing that mattered anyway. He sighs. Cowardice was not a Jedi quality and yet. Here he is. 

His strange melancholy mood doesn't lift in the time it takes him to finish his drink. He pays for it and hauls himself away from the bar. And stops short. Among the packed bodies there is one that holds his attention. He's wild, almost frenzied, seemingly lost in a haze, the mess of braids and copper locks plastered against his forehead, almost hiding the vines that wind around his face. And yet, still desperately graceful. His eyes are closed and he looks at home among the throng of revelers. 

Qui Gon can't look away, limbs frozen. But he can feel it, the pulse of drums heating his blood. He takes a step, and another one. Music washes over him, the electric bass mingling with the drums inside of him. He's not graceful. He's not young. There's silver in his hair, he's taller than everyone else here yet crowds do not part before him. 

A step. Another one, closer still. And he's suddenly swept away in the sweaty bodies, hands catch on his clothes. Light blinds him. Some limbs brush against him or stick themselves to his side, grinding, touching, feeling. It's too much. The smell is overpowering, sweat, alcohol, drugs, smoke, he almost passes out, the ground giving way under him. 

A shout pierces the air. The sea of bodies surges around him. The uproar spreads and pure chaos ensues. Up is down, there's no left nor right anymore, Qui Gon stumbles and goes under, the terrified revelers closing around him. A step. Another one. He's pushed out of the writhing mass. He's free. But the copper has fled leaving chaos in his wake like the fleeting trace of a nightmare slowly fading away under the light of dawn. The taste of wine still lingers on his tongue and the phantom song of drums, in his blood as the club continues to vomit it's clients in the streets of Coruscant.

The Sith had been right there. Qui Gon had had time to come to terms with the damning knowledge that one way or another he would have to kill the Sith, soulmate or not. And yet, when the opportunity had presented itself, he hadn't been able to do it. Cowardice got the better of him and he was left with a heavy heart and the crushing certitude that this wouldn't be the last time he would fail.


	6. Chapter 6

The third time he saw his soulmate, Qui Gon was captive in a force-field on Geonosis. Ten years had passed since Naboo. Things had not been going swimmingly well for a start, but this was a new low. Well not as low as Naboo but still. Floating suspended in a rotating force-field held by electric manacles wasn't a pleasant experience. He hadn't expected, when finally landing on Geonosis after a pretty convoluted trek, to discover who had sent assassins after senator Padme Amidala. In the end, the bounty hunter had led him to this ball of red sand and insectoïd natives.

The first contacts hadn't been the best Qui Gon would admit, and his current predicament could attest to it. This was the first time he had ever been held in this kind of prison and it raised many questions. This was specifically designed to contain a Jedi. Did that mean that whoever was in charge knew he was coming? Was he the first Jedi to test it? Or did some other Jedi experience this trap before him?

His churning thoughts came to a grounding halt when the door to his cell opened. He hadn't seen Dooku since his days on Bandomeer and Qui Gon was at a loss. What was his former master doing here? Did he come here to rescue him? But how did he know Qui Gon was here? Dooku was oddly effusive, apologizing for the way he was held hostage, and assuring him it was all a mistake. And then, behind him came a prowling figure all cowled in black. There was no need for introductions and Qui Gon's stomach sank. Had this prison been made for Dooku first? Had he also been tortured? What was going on here?

The other figure's entry had been as silent as a cat and Dooku didn't show any signs of having noticed the newcomer. Qui Gon's senses, or what was left of them, between the Force deprivation and the rotation, had been screaming at him the whole time. He opened his mouth ready to yell at Dooku to duck, to warn him but then his old master whirled around, hand on the lightsaber. The other recoiled ever so slightly. Seemingly recognizing who it was, the sense of danger disappeared and Dooku was back to his usual debonair self. Turning on his heels as if nothing had happened, he addressed Qui Gon almost jovially.

"Qui Gon! I am rather sorry for the way we parted all those years ago. Let me introduce you to a rather prodigious young man. Qui Gon, this is Obi Wan Kenobi." As he was introduced, the other man, his soulmate, finally revealed his face and his name to Qui Gon. He had grown even more beautiful if that was even possible. A beard graced his chin, but his hair was still a long and wild copper mass, the vines were still as graceful. His eyes shone honey gold here. Gone was the insolent grace he had shown so long ago in that nightclub on Coruscant. Even under his robe, Qui Gon could see the way his muscles were coiled, and though he couldn't see them, he would wager that the Sith, Obi Wan's, hands were clenched too.

The head inclination Qui Gon got as a greeting was falsely lazy but still as graceful. And when he opened his mouth the rich honeyed-wined accent he remembered so clearly unfurled.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Master Jinn. Although", he added, an irreverent smile tugging at his lips, "we have already met each other ten years ago on Naboo." Qui Gon risked a look at his master but no emotions showed on his face. He barely spared a glance to Obi Wan before clapping his hand and turning his attention back to Qui Gon.

"I hope we can leave this dreaded business of Naboo behind us once and for all!" he said. "Now Obi Wan, will you escort our guest back please? I have things to do." And Dooku left Qui Gon abruptly alone with electricity buzzing across his nerves and questions around his mind.

He had no time to ask anything. The gravitational field that held him hostage suddenly disappeared and he almost toppled to the ground. Obi Wan, and the name tickled something in his foggy memory, leaped to his rescue, and strong arms closed around him. The touch lit Qui Gon's from the inside. The electricity of the Force-field replaced by another type of heat. It was a slow and heady thing. He bit his tongue. Hard. Hard enough to draw blood and let the taste of it flood anything else.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, all dignity abandoned long ago.

He was half-carried by Obi Wan at this point, the strength of the other's body almost the only thing preventing him from falling. The copper hair was tickling Qui Gon's cheek, soft as a pelt of a big cat. Qui Gon dizzily wondered if his soulmate could purr. Apparently his faculties had also deserted him along with his sense of direction and of the Force. He still felt horribly off kilter and nothing truly registered, except for the physical heat of his soulmate.

Lost in his thoughts, limbs unresponsive and feet dragging on the floor, he thought Obi Wan, and would he ever tire of saying his soulmate's name even in his head, would not answer. When he finally did, his voice was tinged with dark amusement.

"To the execution ground Master Jinn. I am afraid you are only trading prison for death."

"But why all this?" asked Qui Gon. Obi Wan's lips twisted a bit.

"Dooku is rather...fond of theatrics, and you already know too much Master Jinn." Unbidden, the words Obi Wan had said to him years ago came to mind.

"What did you mean back then? What awaits at the end of the line?"

"Well in the immediate future, your death," replied Obi Wan, the mischievous smile completely at odds with the morbid words.

All of this was leaving Qui Gon rather perplexed. Nothing made any sense since he followed the bounty hunter from Kamino. He was tired, his energy depleted, his Force sense almost null and when they finally left the dark twisted corridors of Geonosis hive-like city the sun blinded him.

He let himself be led and then chained to a post, Obi Wan securing his chains, before leaving alone without a backward glance. When he opened his eyes again, he only saw red, as rusty as blood spilled long ago. His head was pounding. He was in a pit and he realised he was in for a public execution which only served to sour his mood further… Dust filled the air, dry and coarse, like another desert planet long ago.

Which is why he thought he was hallucinating from the heat, thirst and disorientation because he swore that Padme Amidala was currently making her way to him, also in chains. Ten years had not managed to change her. She had fully grown into herself, realising her potential from all those years ago. She had been a cunning Queen and was now a brilliant senator. But that did not explain the kiffar Jedi also chained to the cart along Amidala.

"Quinlan?" he rasped incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you Master Jinn, obviously," answered the kiffar who didn't appear the least bit phased by the fact that his death seemed imminent.

"You're doing a splendid job," groused Qui Gon. But his bad mood didn't affect his companion who grinned back at him. All that was left was waiting to see how things would evolve from this point on. It didn't take long. The crowd roared and the silence that followed was deafening.  
Three beasts sprang from the bowels of the arena, an Acklay, a Nexu, and a Reek. Had they not been sent to kill them, Qui Gon would have been fascinated.

Padme had once again proved she could think on her feet and was, of the three of them, in the most advantageous position. Which Qui Gon couldn't really say of himself. He was too weak and all his attempts at reaching the Acklay's mind had failed. He was reduced to dodging the beast's deadly claws. Luckily one of them sectioned his chains instead of his head, and he was finally free from his post. Sparing a brief glance to the official gallery, he spied Dooku, the Mandalorian bounty hunter he had followed to this planet, and a cloaked shadow on Dooku's sinister side.

His distraction nearly cost him his head. He lost track of where the others were, and what they were doing. The heat was sweltering, the sun, blinding. Thirst ravaged his throat and mouth, he couldn't look up at the Acklay without needing to turn away to protect his eyes. His hair was plastered against his neck, and he couldn't seem to get enough air. Dust filled his lungs, hisses and screaming filled his ears. But his attention never wavered from the Acklay's. One of it’s claws tore through the pole next to him, and he ducked into a roll to escape the looming disaster, to no avail. Debris fell on him, hitting him in the shoulders and arms, the smell of blood filling his nostrils.

A part of his mind that was not fully monopolized by his immediate survival had been pulsing ever since he had been chained to the pole. A primal frenzied beat of drums like a fever. Qui Gon had no time to focus on this maddening new developpement. He had more urgent matters to deal with. Quinlan and Amidala had apparently made more progress than him and were now riding the Reek. Fleeing the Acklay's fatal claws that always found him with disturbing precision, he hopped on behind them.

The situation was definitely not in their favor. Still keeping an eye on the Acklay's progress, Qui Gon was unprepared for the mass arrival of droidekas. With only a blaster and no lightsaber, their doom seemed rather inevitable. The frenzied beat of his mind was debilitating. He couldn't understand it. It couldn't be fear. As a Jedi he was trained to let go, to not fear death. He had no reason to be afraid. And yet, here he was. He could taste the frantic fear on his tongue. Were he to die here, he would die without regret. After all, he was finally complete. He had met his soulmate. After all these years of thinking he was condemned to a half-life of soul-crushing solitude, he had finally met them.

Unbidden his eyes tried to track down Obi Wan. He hadn't moved. Still as a shadow on Dooku's left. Too still in this feverish crowd. And Qui Gon knew. The fear. It wasn't his. It was Obi Wan's. And this place in the back of his mind was suddenly lit by a raging torch. Connecting threads, that he hadn't even been aware of, shot out from the confines of his mind and tangled with another. Finally, ironically the tapestry of his soul was complete.

A hand on his arm roughly shook him out of his mind. Qui Gon lurched back to reality, almost hungover. Quinlan was frantically shouting his name and finally Qui Gon saw. Everywhere cool beacons of blue and green had erupted among the rusty rows. Jedis. More than Qui Gon had ever seen in a single place outside the Jedi Temple.

A lightsaber was quickly thrust into his hands. Finally equipped with a familiar weapon, Qui Gon faced the Acklay. Regret shot through him. He hated killing any life forms, sentient or otherwise. But he had no choice here. Kill or be killed was the only option. A quick work of his blade had the Acklay falling on the ground. The kill was quick. And yet. The Acklay had long since stopped being the biggest threat of the Arena. Bodies of jedi and droids. Everywhere. Piling atop of each other. Drenching the sand a vivid red. The stench of death and charred flesh suffocating. Too much. It was too much already. Too much senseless violence. Too much death. And still the siren song of drums kept lighting his mind and his blood.

Salvation came from above in the form of clone troopers. The very same ones Qui Gon had seen on Kamino. But Dooku was fleeing, and his shadow with him. Qui Gon followed. He wanted, demanded, answers. What was the point of all this? They found Dooku and Obi Wan in a hangar, ready to board a shuttle. Qui Gon's arrival froze them in their tracks. Dooku didn't hesitate. One second Qui Gon was ready to launch accusations at his former Master, the next he was being thrown into a wall.

He saw stars. Pain bloomed everywhere. His heavy eyelids refused to open completely. He was in a blue haze and his nerves already damaged by the force field screamed in agony. Wha..what. What was going on? Burning flesh. Electricity. But where was it coming from? A herculean effort. His eyes opened completely. He wished he hadn't looked. Dooku. Dooku was shooting lightning from the tips of his fingers. At him. Had he also thrown him into the wall??

Obi Wan? Where was Obi Wan? He desperately tried to look around. And found him. It was all fuzzy. But the copper mane was unmistakable. He couldn't see his soulmate expression. Was he scared for Qui Gon? Triumphant to finally see him dying ? Everything was pain. Consciousness was slipping through his fingers. He let go, too exhausted to hold on.

Everything was dark. But a stubborn beacon flickered in the far recess of his mind, unwilling to give darkness free reign. It was warm. Golden. Like someone's eyes. He was drawn to it. Reluctantly he pulled back from the dark and grabbed hold of the pleasant glow. He opened his eyes again. And regretted it. His nerves were still fried and both his head and his various injuries throbbed in pain.

But Dooku's attention was not on him anymore. Rather it was taken by a green little being. It seemed that while he chased after Dooku, Master Yoda had followed him. Most of what they said were lost on him. But Dooku's blade wasn't. Red like the sith. Not a surprise. The lightning had been a pretty big clue. Unbidden tears of pain and confusion and sadness rolled down his cheeks. First his soulmate. And now his Master. Both of them Sith. And Xanatos, also fallen. What had he ever done to be punished by Fate like that?

He couldn't muster any kind of energy to marvel at Yoda's mastery in display. The little master leaped and twirled around Dooku. Both never giving any ground. A soft caress against his shoulder had him flinching. He looked up, still crumpled in a useless heap in a rocky nook. And met gold. Like the light that had pulled out of the darkness.

He tried to speak. Failed. A finger was pressed against his lips and a feeling of concern was pressed against his mind. No words were spoken. Obi Wan was shielding him from his Master's eyes, golden eyes luminous and yet unreadable. Qui Gon was reminded of a long forgotten dream. Of being cradled in an embrace while he lay dying on a cold generator's steel floor.

Soft fingertips trailed along his arms. Lightly and cautiously. As if afraid to hurt. Cool numbness spread in their wake. A respite from the pulsating persisting pain. Again he tried to speak. Again he failed. Again he tried, but by reaching with his mind this time. The gentle light was still there, and he reached for it, and let his gratitude flow freely.

The light recoiled. And snuffed out. Qui Gon was left alone in his mind. In the physical realm, Obi Wan had also flinched away. The fingertips had vanished and Qui Gon already mourned their loss.

A terrible screeching noise suddenly filled the air. A massive pillar had broken in half and was now flying in their direction. Qui Gon was too weak to do anything about it. While a small naïve part of him hoped his soulmate would protect him, the more reasonable side of his brain freed from the pain knew this was unrealistic. Whatever small comfort Obi Wan had ever given him had always been a transgression. Something done sneakily, slipping through the cracks of others’ awareness. Shielding Qui Gon from this pillar was another matter entirely. And Qui Gon shouldn't forget. There were two Sith here.

A wave of power surged in the Force and the pillar stopped and then was carefully lowered further away. The way was now free. But Obi Wan didn't leap across the room to try and reach Dooku. Instead he caught Qui Gon's eyes again. Strong hands found their way to his tunics, and he was yanked brutally on his feet. He was then turned so his back was pressed to Obi Wan, to the solid physicality of his soulmate his only anchor. Two blades sprang to life under his chin, grazing his beard. The smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils mingling with the ozone that saturated the air. The combination nearly made him gag.

The wine-red blades were steady, never faltering as Obi Wan slowly backed them away from the spot where Qui Gon had been lying. But neither did they come closer, singing but never scorching. But the menace must have seemed real enough to the old master because he didn't make any move to stop them. Finally they came to the landing ramp of Dooku's ship. And Qui Gon turned his head. Just a little. The blade left a searing trail on his neck but now he had his nose buried in the crook between Obi Wan's neck and shoulder. And he burned the smell of him in his memory.

Sulphur. The smell of the dark was first and foremost. But underneath that, were sweet spices and oak. Potent. Inebriating.

"Goodbye, Qui Gon. We'll see each other soon." his soulmate murmured, his voice wrapping around Qui Gon.

And he was free. His soulmate leaping backward and sheathing his blades in one impossible fluid movement. The latch of Dooku's shuttle firmly shut behind him. But Qui Gon knew. His lifetime of waiting was over. Obi Wan had promised him. And Qui Gon knew with distant certainty that the next time they met would be on the opposite side of a battlefield.


	7. Chapter 7

He gets assigned a bataillon of men, he wasn't on the council so he wasn't in charge of the systems army and he was glad for it. His men were like him, misfits that had trouble being accepted everywhere else. When he had asked to be involved in this war, he was sure that Mace’s eyes had almost popped out of his skull. The other Master had been left so wrong footed he hadn't known what to say and Qui Gon had almost laughed. Only Yoda suspected the true nature of his involvement, but the little troll was keeping surprisingly quiet, and the stick had yet to whack Qui Gon shins.

Post Geonosis had felt a lot like post-Naboo to him when he had been laying in the medbay trying to recover from the abuse his body had suffered. He had had cracked ribs, a concussion and some nerve damage. Nothing a dip in bacta and time spent recuperating wouldn't solve. But it had brought back memories. And he had made a choice. He wouldn't sit back and let the fighting happen without him. This was personal after all. His former master was now a sith, and so was his soulmate. They were his responsibility. 

So he had agreed, and became a general. The war was worse than anything he could have predicted. Bleak despair seeped into everything, bleeding from every battlefield and infecting planets one after the other in a seemingly never ending loop of darkness. Qui Gon was tired. He had been tired for a long time, dragging half a soul around, and then almost dying when he finally got to meet the other half of himself. 

Rumor, war's ravenous sister, was also thriving. Qui Gon chased after her like he did for ten years after Naboo, but he had the Council's leave now. He was to track the copper-haired ghost, Dooku's right hand man and assassin. Sometimes he was glimpsed with a nightmarish cyborg being, that collected lightsabers like others collected their enemies' heads, or a pale and wraith-like woman who wielded dual lightsabers. Rumor has it that none of their enemies ever made it alive when those two appeared together. A ghost and a dead spirit, harbingers of inevitable death.

Always, Qui Gon chased after rumors. His men were a small and mobile unit, perfect for stealth operations infiltration and information gathering. They spent hours pouring over hearsay and whispers, trying to know where the Sith would strike next. 

This was how they ended up on Vanqor. Whispers had it that the Count had been captured by the pirate Hondo Ohnaka and Qui Gon was to check the credibility of the gossip. The Jedi had finally been able to pinpoint Count Dooku's location, and that was the first place he checked. The frigate had been drifting into an Outer-Rim ice field. 

He had boarded the cold and deserted ship in search of the Count. The corridors rang hollowly with their echoing footsteps. Space always felt lonely to Qui Gon. Each new cabin he checked for another potential soul always opened on an empty grave, until he reached the very last one.

Dooku had been sitting cross legged on a meditation cushion, seemingly waiting for him. He had opened his eyes, yellow eyes, tinged with red. It had sent a chill down Qui Gon's spine. He had forced himself to meet his former mentor’s eyes and not flinch. Dooku had displayed no such qualms when he opened his eyes lazily

"Qui Gon. What an unpleasant surprise. Young Master Vos’ presence in the Force was disagreeable enough. But now here you are."

His gaze had raked Qui Gon up and down who tried not to flinch under the reprobation. He's frozen. He had wanted this since Geonosis, no since Bandomeer and yet he had been unable to do anything but stand there struck dumb once again by Dooku. And he had let the man escape, though he had not gotten very far. 

They had ended up crossing blades in the pilot cabin once he had caught up with him. His master had been relentless in his assaults, and only years of learning Soresu had saved him from any wounds more grievous than a scalding dash across his biceps and legs. It had still been enough to send him sprawling on the piloting console, his lightsaber searing and damaging the console.

This was how they ended up on Vanqor, or more accurately crashed. When Qui Gon finally regained consciousness in the wreck that was once Dooku's frigate, the Count was nowhere to be seen. His vision was swimming and his head was pounding, he wasn't quite sure of the steadiness of the ground under his back but he couldn't let the Count escape. Once again he had the opportunity to put an end to this. Once again he had let it escape. 

There was a tightness in his chest as he asked himself if this was attachment. He had promised to kill the Sith and yet did nothing when he met Obi Wan in that club years ago. He had wanted answers from his former Master and yet couldn't find any words to ask him the question. Who was he really chasing after? Ghosts of his past or individuals of flesh and bones? And why? Was it duty? Was it a desperate need to just not be alone anymore in this yawning galaxy?

He was shaking all over when he finally pushed himself to stand. And he almost fainted as the world lurched around him. Still he pushed himself further, one foot in front the other. He couldn't lose Dooku. He had to find him. He ground his teeth and marched on. He was lost in a blue-grey daze of swirling silica dust-storm. He had to find shelter. He couldn't find anything this way. Still he ploughed ahead. He couldn't stop. Not now. Not again.

A screech pierced the air and Qui Gon's blood froze. He recognized it, and didn't like it. He was in no shape to take on any gundark. They came galloping out of the mist, the red skin a glaring stain in the bleak landscape. They were hideous. Not even his love for pathetic lifeforms was enough to deny the reality of the beasts. Four arms and sixteen claws, a mouth full of teeths, they were predators Qui Gon didn't want to cross in his state.

They leaped onto him and he didn't even try to escape. Instead he was thrown on the ground, a looming mountain of muscle and dirty drool towering above him. His vision was swimming again, and he didn't feel his back despite the violence of the shock. He opened his mind, and reached for the creature. 

It was dim and the scent of blood dominated it's thoughts. It was also hungry and Qui Gon was already weakened. He tried. He insinuated himself in the gundark's thoughts and gently tried to coax him away from the immediate prey that he was. He kept it simple, no complex thoughts. Images and feelings only. Danger. And a green blazing light. It was slow, much slower than it should have taken him but the gundark's maw finally moved away from the immediate vicinity of his neck. 

Slowly. Ever so slowly, Qui Gon reached a hand and firmly grasped the longer fur around the gundark neck. Carefully he climbed back to his feet. He kept his hand in contact with the animal and moved toward the gundark’s back, careful to always remain in its field of vision. At last the gundark's back faced him. Qui Gon climbed onto it cautiously. Once he was secure, he sent another vision in the gundark's mind. If anyone would know where Dooku was, it was the gundarks. Prey, he told his mount. Find. Search. He didn't have much faith in his success until the gundark surged forward.

He grasped desperately at the gundark's shoulders and tried not to let go of his hold on the fur. His eyes stung from the flying dust, his knuckles were white and bloodless he couldn't feel them anymore. His mount came to a screeching halt and for the second time Qui Gon crashed into the ground. The impact knocked the breath out his lungs, and his back screamed at him. By the time he could open his eyes again, the gundark is nowhere to be seen. Instead a humanoïd silhouette is bent over him.

"My friend! What an unexpected pleasure!" The voice was cheerful and loud. As his vision cleared, he was assaulted by the bright gundark-red coat of the speaker. So far it seemed to be the only common point between the planet’s inhabitants. He looked up, right into green goggles. In addition to his dramatically eye-catching billowing cloak, the figure wore a turtle-shelled hat. 

The eccentric fellow didn't seem put out by the lack of greeting. If anything, his aggressive cheerfulness increased. And Qui Gon knew. Trust his rotten luck to lead him right into the clutches of Hondo Ohnaka, the most unpredictable being in the whole galaxy.

"Jinn! Really. What a surprise really! Are you looking for the very elegant fellow that was here before you?"

Qui Gon smiled at the pirate, all teeth and false cheer.

"Hondo! My friend! Good to see you. You wouldn't have any way to escape this planet now would you?" The pirate scoffed good naturedly and spread his arms dramatically.

"You doubt Hondo Ohnaka? I am wounded, Jinn!" 

"Offer me a way off this planet and then we'll see Hondo," Qui Gon replied, well aware of the shrewd mind hiding behind all the theatrics.

"Lucky you, I have my magnificent ship. But passage to Florrum will cost you."

"Lead the way then," he wasn't worried about the price. The Force would provide. He trailed behind Hondo and was led to the carcass of Dooku’s crashed ship. There was another nearby all sleek and round, with pirates busying themselves around him, carrying crates from the pillaged wreck. As he was about to set foot inside Hondo's ship, Qui Gon stopped dead in his tracks, all pain momentarily forgotten. There, back straight, hands clasped and chained in front of him, was Dooku. 

" _This_ was the elegant fellow you were referring to earlier? Why couldn't you have said so sooner? " Hondo whirled back to face Qui Gon.

"Oh, you are interested my friend?"

"Yes," replied Qui Gon emphatically. "Do you have any idea of the price on his head? Release the Count in my custody and you'll be paid handsomely."

"Ooh? You wouldn't be trying to cheat Hondo now? You have something to pay your travel fee I hope?"

"Why not play a game of dice then?" suggested Qui Gon. "If I win, I can come freely aboard and you'll let me contact the Jedi Council to discuss your payment for capturing the Count."

"And if I win?" asked the pirate.

"Then you leave me here to find another way to travel off planet and you can still contact whoever you want for the Count ransom."

Hondo eyed him suspiciously, but not sensing any deception, he threw his head back and laughed.

"A gambling man! Oh I like you, Jinn! Very well! Let the dice decide!" With these words, Hondo produced two dice with a flourish and threw them on the ground. Qui Gon made sure that Hondo couldn't see or feel him subtly manipulate the Force. When the dice rolled and settled, Qui Gon kept any kind of triumph off his face. Hondo didn't have the same restraint. The pirate huffed, cursed and shouted.

"How could you betray me so!" Hondo wailed at his dice. He then whirled right into Qui Gon's face. "You better had nothing to do with this Jinn," he said before stomping back to his ship, Qui Gon following suit.

The trip to Florrum was, in a word, tense. Hondo hadn't been able to swallow his loss and Qui Gon was stuck between a stone-faced Dooku and the pirate crew. His comm had been destroyed when he crashed on Vanqor or during his wild ride on the Gundark's back, so he had to wait to be on Florrum to contact the Jedi council. He was not prepared for what was waiting on Florrum.

The first thing he saw was copper. The first thing he tasted was the subtle aroma of wine in the air, and he was surprised he had not tasted it earlier. The first thing he felt was a subtle tug inside himself, and the first thing he heard was a faint purple note of a flute trembling in the Force. His heart sank. 

Hondo didn't share his reservations. He strode confidently out of his ship and planted himself firmly in front of the new arrival. 

"Well well, what do we have here friends? Have you come to negotiate with the famous Hondo Ohnaka?"

Qui Gon could hear Obi Wan's chuckle.

"Indeed. I believe you have someone of interest in your custody and I would like to ask for his release."

"Oh? And what have you brought to me in exchange?"

"I'm afraid I don't have anything of value to offer except myself," the redhead said affably. "What about a trade then? Myself for your prisoner? Doesn't this sound reasonable?"

Qui Gon had heard enough. Leaving Dooku chained in the ship's cockpit, he barreled out of her as fast as his injuries would allow him to, coming to halt near Hondo's elbow. His brusque arrival made both of the other's heads turn.

"He's a sith. You shouldn't trust any words that come out of his mouth!" he told Hondo, while trying desperately to not look at Obi Wan. 

"Heh. Money is money my friend. We are pirates. I don't care about you and your business." Qui Gon opened his mouth to protest, swallowed a mouthful of dust instead, and closed it before Hondo silenced him. 

"But!" he said, "you are right. How can I trust a man with no money?" Obi Wan bared his teeth in a savage grin. The white of his smile bright despite their sulfur-yellow surroundings.

"Violence is really not my preference, but I could always kill you and your crew and then take back your prisoner." Hondo was not impressed. He looked Obi Wan up and down and just laughed again.

"Not Hondo Ohnaka and his crew, you can't kill us. Many have tried my friend. And yet we still stand to this day. So do you have anything of value to offer?"

Qui Gon still didn't know what game Obi Wan was playing. And it was a game. He was sure of it. He was beginning to hate desert planets. Tatooine, Geonosis and now Florrum, most of his meetings with Obi Wan had happened on one of those barren back-water worlds, and nothing good ever came out of it. But for once he refused to be pulled along by the purple thread that linked him to the other man, refused to surrender himself to the sweet desire that tasted like wine on his tongue. No matter how much he longed to.

Obi Wan bared his teeth in the parody of a smirk.

"As I said, I have no money, but I offer a trade, me for your prisoner. This is the last time I'm offering, take it or leave it."

Hondo barked a laugh. "I like you! Come with me and we'll discuss the trade at my table my friend." He turned his head minutely and looked at Qui Gon again. "Are you coming, Jinn? My crew will take care of the prisoner. Now come, and let's get the alcohol flowing!"

Hondo's place was mercifully cool and dim, a respite after the harsh sunlight of the outside. The space was almost entirely taken by an enormous round table. Hondo lounged in the place of honor, drink already in hand. Qui Gon was intensely aware of Obi Wan's presence at his back, even more so than the different aches that kept demanding his attention. Resolutely he tried to ignore it as best as he could, and focused instead on Hondo. He took a seat, was given alcohol strong enough that the smell alone made him sneeze and choke, only to see Obi Wan slide in the seat opposite him. His soulmate refused to be escaped from. He forced Qui Gon to focus on him, reclining negligently in his seat while never taking his eyes off the Jedi Master even when being presented with a drink.

"A toast my friends! To successful negotiations!" cheered Hondo. Obi Wan raised his gobelet and smirked at Qui before downing the liquid in one go. Qui Gon didn't even try to taste the liquor when it was his turn to knock back the alcohol. Maybe if he tried to murder his taste buds all at once and forever, one of his senses would stop clamoring for Obi Wan. 

He filled his sight every time they met, the glorious fire of his hair, the sheer grace of his movements, the smell of ozone and spice, the taste of sweet fine that always lingered on his tongue, and the melodic tenor of his voice. Nothing, not the taste of dirt, nor the blinding sunlight, nor the sweat, nor the sound of others voices, could occult Obi Wan. Reality always faded to the background whenever he was near.

At the moment, Qui Gon was distracted from his contemplation, liquor all but forgotten in his hands as a plate of food was pushed toward him. And a plan burgeoned in his head. Very well. If he couldn't ignore Obi Wan, a fact that seemed to delight the other, there were other avenues he could explore. 

Hondo was retelling one of his adventures. Loudly. With grand dramatic gestures and a lot of hand waving. And yet, never once did his liquor spill out of his goblet. He was engrossed in his own exploits and thankfully didn't need the input of anyone else. 

Qui Gon hid a smile. Obi Wan, under his debonair façade, had his lips pinched and his smile was a little tense. Maybe it was time to have a bit of fun. Glancing at the pirates around him, feet on the table, drinks sloshing around, he decided to forgo any manners that Dooku had ever tried to instill and just make himself at home among these pirates. 

He unfolded his long legs and didn't bite back a groan of satisfaction when he pulled them out from the cramped space under the table. He took his plate and began to eat with his fingers. Hondo laughed so hard he almost fell backward in his chair and heartily slapped Qui Gon on the shoulder.

"Friend! Had I known you knew how to eat like a pirate, I would have invited you long ago!" 

Cheers echoed loudly around him and soon Qui Gon forgot it was all a game. Hondo was good at hiding a razor sharp intelligence behind his goggles but alcohol loosened his tongue and Qui Gon surprised himself by laughing heartily more than once. He himself shared a fair number of embarrassing anecdotes that had the pirates roaring in laughter.

Only Obi Wan never joined. He stubbornly held onto his eating utensils, sipping from his goblet half heartedly, careful to never spill a drop. His laughter never reached his eyes and he only rolled his eyes at the pirates shenanigans.

The hour gew late, the atmosphere filled with the heavy aroma and smoke of Hondo's tabac pipe. Blood coursed languidly through Qui Gon veins, his limbs loose from wine and food. He could have filtered the alcohol but it would have ruined his fun. He didn't protest when a firm body heaved him up from his seat. Words were said, but they were muffled, far away and he let himself be carried to the sleeping quarters.

He collapsed in a heap of limbs, armor and clothes, but he didn't care. He tasted spices and tannin on the back of his tongue.

"Stay," he mumbled. It was foolish. It was something he could never do. He didn't care. He was warm all over and Obi Wan's presence didn't help him fight the drowsiness that pulled at him. He didn't know if the pallet was hard or not, big enough for two or not. There was one bed. He had been lonely enough. He just wanted Obi Wan near him.

"Stay," he pleaded again. Soft. A huff answered him, and a warm presence settled at his back.

"Sleep," Obi Wan answered, just as soft, not pulling away the slightest bit. And Qui Gon did just that, lulled by the gentle sound of the other breathing.


	8. Chapter 8

It all seemed like a dream the morning after. The bed had disappeared, and he woke up on cold hard stone, a glowing rope around his wrists and waist. His head was pounding which did nothing to help his situation. Following the rope, he found a similar one wrapped around Obi Wan who appeared to be dead to the world and further than that, he found his old Master, sitting cross legged in silent dignity. With his vision clearing slightly, he could see how both he and Obi Wan had been tethered to Dooku. 

Rising up with some difficulty, Qui Gon dragged himself over to Obi Wan, deliberately occulting Dooku's presence from his mind. He would deal with that in good time. What mattered was Obi Wan. He was beginning to worry. The Force was empty of even the faintest echo of a melody. It was cruelly quiet. He checked for a pulse and was relieved to find one, strong and regular. 

Obi Wan's presence in the Force was shrouded but that was just how Obi Wan was. A presence always tightly coiled, ready to leap at the first sign of danger like one of those great cats Qui Gon had once seen. They had been magnificent beasts and Qui Gon had never managed to be scared of them.

Satisfied that nothing was deeply wrong with Obi Wan, Qui Gon focused his attention on Dooku who had amazingly refrained from saying anything.

"The deal appears to have changed," noted Qui Gon, not moving from his place at Obi Wan's side. "If there was ever a deal at all. They must be trying to triple their pay." 

"Astute observation, my former padawan," derided Dooku, "as always." Qui Gon gritted his teeth against the other’s remark. They needed to get out of here, and fast. Hondo had proven himself more shrewd than he had given credit for, and there was no saying how much longer they had. 

Reporting his attention to Obi Wan, Qui Gon trailed gentle fingers against the other's face, feather-light fingers tracing the delicate edges of the swirling vine tattoo, lightly nudging him, hoping to get a reaction. An iron grip captured his fingers and brilliant golden eyes flashed open. There was no recognition in those eyes, only wilderness until they landed on Dooku and a veil fell.

Letting go of Qui Gon fingers and casting aside his touch, Obi Wan struggled to sit.

"You should have let him suffer for his mistakes, Qui Gon. I thought you had learned your lesson years ago. Not every pathetic lifeform deserves your attention. And these pirates are devious. Our shackles are bound together," he sighed, "I have tried to separate us but to no avail" Dooku couldn't sound more disappointed if he tried and Qui Gon was fighting against flashbacks to his apprenticeship.

Before he had time to make his brain and tongue formulate an answer, Hondo's cackling voice carried over to them.

"....eet mother always said, son if one hostage is good, two are better. But THREE hostages? Well that's just good business." Never let it be said that Hondo wasn't both clever and greedy. But there was also someone else with Hondo, Qui Gon could feel it even through the Force-dampening cord currently linking him with Obi Wan and Dooku.

"Well at least Hondo has his priorities straight," snarked Obi Wan from his position on the floor. He was grimacing. Without access to the Force, Obi Wan must be suffering from one hell of headache. His hair was a complete mess, strands falling out of their braids. Adding to that the dark circles under his eyes and Obi Wan looked wrecked. Gone was his carefully-put together polished façade. 

"I hope you have a plan for getting off this god-forsaken planet," rumbled the silver-haired master, focusing on Qui Gon, as if Obi Wan hadn't spoken at all. When no answer was forthcoming, the tall man leaned back against the wall and huffed what could probably pass as a laugh. "Excellent," he said, which made Qui Gon's hackles rise even more. He had never been good with making plans, relying more on the feeling of the moment to guide him out of trouble.

They didn't have to wait for too long. In his years away from the Jedi, Dooku had lost none of his fine control of the Force as he levitated a fruit bowl with a knife to their cell. 

"I would gladly eat breakfast first before escaping," Obi Wan managed to snark weakly. Qui Gon smiled privately. At least Obi Wan's wit hadn't deserted him even in times of great need. It's a comfort when he felt so wrong footed already. 

"Control your insolence my apprentice," barked Dooku, something Qui Gon had heard so many times before, it's branded in his memory. He didn't know how to deal with Dooku when the Sith he dueled on Geonosis was nowhere to be seen. The slayer of Jedi, the sacker of planets, seemed to have been left behind, leaving only Dooku, the stern faced and sharp-worded teacher that he grew up with. His words may be sharper, his tone even more biting, but memories of a time he thought long gone still flooded Qui Gon.

Escaping from their cell was rather easy despite their shared predicament, Dooku leading the way, Qui Gon behind, and Obi Wan bringing up the rear, but silence weighed heavily between them. They hadn't yet encountered anyone, no pirates, Hondo or anyone else since their former teacher stole the knife. The long corridor in which they found themselves seemed devoid of any life. Their only companions were crates and the harsh white light pouring down from the ceiling, leaving no shadows.

Heat bloomed at his back. Obi Wan had crept closer without his notice to whisper in a hoarse voice.

"Do we know where we're going?" he asked, low enough that Dooku couldn't hear him. A glance at his Master's formidable profile was enough to gather an answer and he could only shrug.

" _ I _ don't. But the Force will provide. Or Master Dooku." He didn't really have any other answer to give except to ask Dooku, but he would rather not cross that bridge. Obi Wan's face twisted a little apparently unsatisfied but no objection came, and he retreated as quietly as he came. Not quietly enough for Dooku who barked a "quiet" and promptly dispatched a pirate who went sprawling unconscious on the cold ground.

Before he could bend down, Obi Wan was already searching the body, producing their means of escape through the currently closed door, which he passed to Qui Gon, calloused fingertips brushing Qui Gon's hand. He shivered. It had nothing to do with the cold. Instead he was acutely aware of where his fingers touched Obi Wan's, of the urge to grab that hand and never let it go.

The door opened and the pirates they hadn't seen until now were all gathered behind the door apparently.

"Didn't you say it was safe Master?" quipped Obi Wan as they were thrown back into jail. Dooku's back stiffened in anger but he was unable to answer when surrounded by a guffawing pirate. Obi Wan was not the only one entertained by the situation. Hondo despite his words was clearly revelining in the situation.

" “I don’t want to kill you, per se,” the pirate sighed dramatically, “You seem like decent fellows, even you Count. This is just business, once I get my money, we can get back to being FRIENDS!" Hondo certainly had a very personal view of what friendship is like, one that Dooku obviously didn't share. 

"Was our company not enough Hondo? Here I thought we had had the most amiable evening," cames the irreverent quip. Obi Wan must have finally recovered his wit and sharp tongue, free of any lingering effects of the drug. Dooku's face was darkening by the second and fear gripped him. Not for himself, he has long been free of Dooku's tutelage, but for Obi Wan. Dooku never took well to insolence. But Hondo did. 

The pirate guffawed. "I do like you Kenobi, but please do not complicate things by breaking out again my friends, this is bad for business and business, is  _ everything _ !" leaving them alone again. 

"We need to get out of here. Before the Republic arises," Qui Gon sighed, ignoring the way his skin crawled at Dooku's cordial approval. They had already lost so much time, the clock was ticking. They needed to be efficient, damn the Jedi's usual caution. Hondo was playing a game of cat and mouse and they were not winning. Making his way towards the door, it was easy to persuade the guard to leave his post even despite the Force-dampening chains still attached to him. A light application of the Force was enough. 

They left their cell behind once again and were back to the same corridor as before, more alert this time. Qui Gon refused to be put back in the cell and he doubted Obi Wan or his Master were more agreeable to the idea. They had to duck and hide multiple times to avoid being caught by Hondo's men that were now patrolling the area. 

He was not getting anxious per se. But the sooner he was free, the sooner he could escape the tension between Obi Wan and Dooku. It reminded too much of this apprenticeship, of Dooku's relentless pursuit of perfection. And yet. Something eluded him. Obi Wan should have been everything Dooku ever wanted in a student, whip-smart and brilliant, elegant and civilized down to the Coruscanti accented voice, everything he had always found lacking in Qui Gon. Was Dooku aware of the link between him and Obi Wan? Did he know the nature of the link?

Dooku had made no secret of his distaste for soulmates during their years as Master and apprentice. He never really knew why his Master sneered at those bonds more than any other. He had embraced his family legacy after all. 

"You are too hasty Kenobi," Dooku sharply reprimanded as the younger man moved to lead the trio.

"And you should be more patient, Master. After all, you are an elderly gentleman," snapped Obi Wan right back. Qui Gon tensed at the insolence. The restraints around his wrists were not enough to obscure the sudden stench of the dark side in the Force. A glimpse at Dooku's thundering face was like looking at a death sentence.

"I would kill you right now Kenobi if I didn't have to drag your body," the Count threatened, his voice leached of any warmth. Qui Gon's hands itched for his lightsaber that was nowhere on his person, craving the feeling of protection and peace it brought him. Obi Wan's biting laugh did nothing to alleviate the tension.

The sudden blaring of all the alarms cut his musings short. They had to get out of there and fast. Flurries of footsteps were already getting closer. Forgoing any finesse, Obi Wan broke down the closest door and they all crashed on the hard metal ground, too fast to allow them to soften their fall.

No time to recuperate, they were on their feet in a blink, running again and then leaping high into the air in a graceful arc as Obi Wan propelled them on the top of the high fortification encircling Hondo's den. But without the Force and with two other chained men to him, Obi Wan was unable to fully complete the leap and lost his equilibrium. Gravity took over and as Dooku was sent tumbling down, Qui Gon was violently pulled back as blaster shots rained over their head.

In all his years this was definitely one of the most botched escapes he had ever made. But maybe one that would make the younglings laugh in these dark times if he ever made it back to the Temple. One of the blaster shots aimed true and the glowing rope between the Count and him snapped and before he could think of what he was doing, he grabbed Dooku with all his Force.

"What do you think you are doing Qui Gon?" yelled Obi Wan, "drop him, I can't hold on for much longer!" But Qui Gon couldn't let go. This was Count Dooku, Sith Lord and political leader of the Separatists, but it was also Obi Wan's mentor, and his own, a former Jedi Master. He couldn't. He could only trust in Obi Wan's strength from now on.

"I guess that means we can't be friends after all," sighed a disappointed voice. Obi Wan cursed and Qui Gon rather agreed with him. To be thwarted not once, not twice but three times by a pirate was getting rather ridiculous, Force or no Force. Hondo didn't waste any time in vain dramatics and instead dragged Qui Gon away from both Sith, clasping his shoulders with bruising strength. 

"You refuse my hospitality! Refuse to wait in your cell and your Republic shows up with a big army, thinking they could go against Hondo! Fools! I suppose that means they do not want the Count after all." Qui Gon had seldom met a more formidable foe than Hondo. Under his debonair manners and flair for the dramatics, the Weequay pirate was cunning.

A platform dominated the room he had been led to and Hondo cackled, "See this Jedi? If you continue to oppose me, I will bind you and electrocute you and there's nothing you will do to stop me from having fun! Or have you learned your lesson?"

If there was one thing Qui Gon didn't want to do, it was to push Hondo's buttons further. Hondo's words were no empty threat. He knew the pirate would have no qualm about electrocuting him if given the chance. 

"You've proven yourself to be a formidable opponent my friend. You won soundly, I fear."

"What? Do my ears betray me, Jedi?" shouted Hondo, "Ah, I am glad you are seeing the light, at last!"

All anger seemingly forgotten, the pirate released Qui Gon and whirled around to face his crew.

"Did you hear? This calls for celebration, friends!" As soon as Hondo spoke all lights went out and the den was immersed in darkness.

"Who dared ruin my fun?" Barked Hondo. Qui Gon couldn't see anything but he could hear the confused flailing of the pirate's crew. Nobody had any idea of what had just happened. Most certainly this was the sign that the Republic's army had finally arrived. A shout pierced the darkness.

"Hutt-spawn!" Soon another cry joined the first,and a third, a fourth, until every pirate was accusing the other of harming them, in a deafening vociferous cacophony. And yet, Qui Gon hadn't heard a thing. He was roughly jostled and shoved aside, crashing into someone. Not even the glowing ropes could provide enough light to see who had cushioned his fall.

A single sanguine blade of light pierced the chaos. All sound ceased. All movement ceased to. Obi Wan stood there, in the middle of the pirate's crew, golden eyes flinty hard, holding a blade to Hondo's throat.

"Approach me, and he dies," threatened Obi Wan. "Time to put an end to the festivities. Now give me Master Jinn's saber Hondo." When the dumbfounded pirate didn't move, Obi Wan brought the blade just a bit closer to the vulnerable grey-skinned throat. 

"Okay okay, no need for this violence," whined Hondo, fishing inside his coat and tossing his lightsaber to Qui Gon. The master caught it deftly, the hilt nestling in his palm like an old friend. Emerald light sprang to life, joining the scarlet blade and he promptly slashed his restraints. The feeling of the Force flowing freely through him had never been more sweet.

But he didn't have time to appreciate the feeling. He had a pirate den to escape from at last. Obi Wan had still not let Hondo go and was backing away toward the direction the exit must have been. No pirate had dared to come closer yet. Qui Gon proceeded to take advantage of it and promptly joined Obi Wan's side. Hondo hadn't stopped talking, threatening, never once losing his flair for the dramatic.

No incidents delayed their final exit. No one dared to make a move against a Jedi and a Sith back to full capacity. It certainly made things easier. As they emerged into dusty-yellow daylight, Qui Gon caught a glimpse of a lone ship taking off into the atmosphere. 

"Must I assume that you don't have Count Dooku anymore, Hondo," scorned Obi Wan.

Startled, Qui Gon searched the planet and indeed, the Count's presence was nowhere to be felt, unlike Obi Wan's maddening one, intoxicating despite the taint. Republic Forces were closing in on them, the sounds of battle filling his ears with artillery fire and heavy machines. He doused his blade and spun to face Obi Wan. 

"You have to get out of here, fast. You can't let the Republic capture you!!" Urgency filled him and yet he dared not reach across the space that separated him from Obi Wan, whose blade still hovered above Hondo's throat. His hand was steady, and the Force around him was calm.

"Don't worry about me, Qui Gon. I don't intend on letting Hondo go so easily. He will most graciously grant me passage on his ship so I might leave the planet."

"Absolutely not!" Roared Hondo, offended. "No one gets to fly my ship without my permission!" 

Qui Gon threw his head back and just laughed and laughed as all the built-up tension left him loose limbed and relaxed. He hadn't realised he had closed his eyes until he opened them again. Obi Wan's attention was riveted on him, eyes alight with an indefinable emotion.

The ice had melted leaving behind pools of melted gold that flickered blue and green in the light. If he had thought Obi Wan's eyes were beautiful before, nothing could hold a candle to this moment and the potential he was allowed to glimpse. His breath was caught somewhere in his ribcage, while his heart had climbed up his throat, choking him with emotions.

"Be safe," he gasped.  _ Please _ .

"I will," Obi Wan answered solemnly, not taking his eyes off him. 

"Have you finished yet, lovers? There is a blade at my throat and my good mood is not everlasting!" Interrupted Hondo. Loudly. Brought back to earth, Qui Gon shook himself, trying to break the spell. Swiftly, he turned on his heels and marched straight towards the fire, safe in the knowledge that Obi Wan would escape this planet without any problems. He chuckled. Who knew. This might be the start of life-long friendship. Hondo and Obi Wan were cut from the same cloth after all. 

When the Republic's troops came to his rescue, in the person of Jar Jar of all beings, the last Sith had already deserted the planet. And if he tweaked his tale of the events just a little, who could blame him? Keeping those precious stolen moments with his Sith was well worth the mortification of having Jar Jar laugh at him.


	9. Chapter 9

The rain-soaked planet of Jabiim was the last place where Qui Gon saw Obi Wan for a long time. The battle had been a complete disaster from start to finish. From the civil war to the disastrous decision to keep the planet in the Republic and retake by force, Qui Gon had loathed every moment of it. 

For once he couldn't even blame it on the council. He had seen the barely concealed disgust momentarily twisting the councillors faces when the orders from the Chancellor came. Orders which also made clear how little choice they had in the matter. More and more it felt like the war was slipping through their fingers, torrents of sand that the Jedi tried to catch with open hands.

They had fallen prey to their enemies so easily it was laughable. It only made Qui Gon howl. The plan had been brilliant. The Republic Forces had over-extended themselves by trying to attack defensive Separatists positions and in doing so had left themselves vulnerable and open to attack. The enemy strike to their base had been swift and deadly, led by the Jabiimi Separatists and squadrons of droids. They had come on the twenty-first day. It was a butchery. So many clones, generals and even padawans had been slaughtered. 

Qui Gon had lost two of his fellow Masters under double blades wielded by the ashen-faced Asajj Ventress and his flame-haired nemesis. Obi Wan and Asajj made a lethal duo. They were both nimble and swift, their blades never failing to find their target. Precise, elegant and deadly, his old Master's hand was glaringly obvious in their fighting style. 

And yet, both favoured Jar'Kkai, which Qui Gon knew Dooku despised. He refused to entertain the thought that his old Master had mellowed in his old age. Yet here he was, no longer a Jedi, a Sith even, with two apprentices, a dark mirror to his Jedi Lineage. 

Qui Gon had managed to avoid fighting Obi Wan the best he could. The warning notes of a dancing flute in the Force enough to make him change his plans. Since their escape from Florrum he had finally come to term with the fact that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much resentment he felt, he still couldn't harm the other.

In the quiet evening hours when invited for tea with Mace in Depa's quarters, as had become their habit since the beginning of the war, soothed by the verdant plants populating Mace's former padawan’s quarters and the singing fountain, he had confessed this shortcoming to his friends. Hunched over a cup of tea on his meditation pad, his voice had been barely audible over the fountain’s quiet noise. 

"I can't. I can't harm him," he had confided. Mace had glared at him. 

"He's dangerous Qui Gon, a Sith for Force's sake! How do you want to fight if you can't face neither your former master nor his apprentice?" Depa, serene Depa had smiled at him over her own cup of tea.

"I am sorry Qui Gon that you find yourself on the opposite side of the war. No one can blame you for struggling," Mace had groaned.

"Don't encourage him Depa. He's already hard enough to deal with as it is!"

"I'm being serious Mace. I know I am a hindrance on the battlefield but I beg of you my friend, don't make me fight him." He knew Mace meant well, and it was true that with so few Jedi they needed all the manpower they could throw into fighting this war. Their precious light, already so fragile, had kept on dimming with every new loss, with every new Jedi sent into the galaxy, with every new batch of clones coming from Kamino. They were all exhausted already and this was only the beginning.

With Mace and Depa on his side, Qui Gon mostly managed to avoid Obi Wan on the battlefield. Except on Jabiim. In the middle of the debacle that was the battle, the Force still seemed to look out for him because he did not cross blades with Obi Wan. Only with Ventress. The fight still left him reeling. It felt like crossing blades with Dooku all over again and as with his former Master, he struggled to gain the upper hand. Until she disappeared.

Jabiim was a nightmare of cold rain and sticky mud seeping everywhere, leaching whatever warmth they could produce. Even Qui Gon who never had any trouble regulating his body temperature was left shivering and freezing. The Republic troops had been completely bogged down in the soggy terrain and left vulnerable. Again, the enemy commandos had decimated them. The death toll kept rising and Qui Gon was getting heartsick of it all, retching every night when the memories of all the lives lost during the day washed over him. 

No radio communication with the fleet or the Republic was possible, the turbulent atmosphere scrambling the signals but Qui Gon had had enough. Staying there would only mean more deaths, theirs and everybody else. He refused. In the middle of all the distress, with all the deaths of Jedi, clones and padawans, the troops had turned to him for guidance and he had assumed de facto leadership. He knew he should wait for orders but he couldn't let the situation go on and instead planned for a full-scale evacuation.

In the meantime, the death toll kept rising and not even the death of the enemy leader could stop the monstrous spiral of violence. Tragedy struck again when the evacuation ships arrived. There were not enough for both the Jabiimi Republic loyalists and the GAR. 

Not for the first nor last time, Qui Gon cursed the war, the Sith, maybe even the Force for allowing such a thing to happen. Could he wait for reinforcement? Could he use the Force to force back those who wanted but couldn't make it onboard? Faced with a crowd of desolate filthy faces and helmets he knew he could never do such a thing.

So he did something he swore he would never do. He retreated back to his tent and sat down, legs crossed in meditation and reached out through the only bond that could withstand every obstacle, even their respective deaths. Sinking into the Force and deep into himself, leaving the sound and fury of the battlefield, he reached the quiet hidden place where a glowing path opened up in front of him. He reached out, sending a wordless query, a prayer, hoping to be heard.

He waited. Finally an impression came back to him. An echo but slightly different. A variation in a well known melody. And he knew he'd been heard. They had both studiously ignored their shared bond since the beginning of the war, but it wasn't any less strong for it. And so he asked for assistance, begged really, for his enemy, his soulmate, for Obi Wan to help him when there was nothing in his power to do. 

There was no further answer from the other side of the bond after the first echo. If Qui Gon hadn't known his first request had been heard, he would have thought he was screaming in the void of the Force. But he knew he'd been heard. That made the deafening silence following his cry for help even more unbearable. He wanted to weep. Has the war stripped away any light remaining in Obi Wan? How will he be able to tell some of the people who fought side by side with him to their face that he was leaving them to die ?

He took the cowardly route and didn't say anything when he came out of his tent except asking for the full-scale evacuation to proceed. Qui Gon could only pray to the Force that in the week it would take them to evacuate a solution would present itself. In the meantime, he had to make sure that no more souls would die. 

Thus began the longest week of his existence. Fatigue dragged him down, exhaustion and worry made him slow when he couldn't afford to be. Every night, he would fail to live in the moment and lose himself in calculations, hoping beyond reason that he would be able to evacuate everyone. Every night, those calculations failed to bring a solution.

The last day came. Qui Gon had taken to falling asleep on his feet, dozing off in the middle of the day. Tensions had been running high. Despite his best efforts, rumors had started circulating, that not everyone could make it off planet, that the Jedi were going to betray their sacred oath of protection, that some would be left to die a certain death. 

The clones still obeyed orders but a steady flame of anger burned in their eyes. If the Jedi abandoned them, it would send a message that the clones were only canon fodder, indistinct beings that could be left to die amidst the galaxy's indifference. The Jabimii were no better and Qui Gon had to break more than one fight.

Finally it was time for the last evacuation to take place and when Qui Gon dragged himself to the landing area, dread pooling icy cold in his stomach, and the Force utterly silent, the first thing he saw were three AA-9 Coruscant freighters, among the GAR ships. He stopped dead in the middle of the landing area, unable to understand what he was seeing. 

He almost collapsed on his knees in the mud in relief. A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Turning his head, he was faced with the clone commander in charge of Jabim's troops.

"They have been helping with the evacuation for the past couple of days, Sir. We have no idea where they came from. Each of these monsters can hold 30 000 refugees. Everybody can make it out, Sir."

Qui Gon almost wept in relief, not even bothered by the fact that this man could read him like an open book. He wouldn't have to choose who would live or die. This was a responsibility he had never wanted and would never want again. Not like this. It only drove home the point that Jedi were not meant for this war. It would destroy them. Sweeping aside his doubts, Qui Gon accepted the clone's hand and got up from the ground. Orders were barked, soldiers and clone troopers boarded the ships, and finally Qui Gon left the hell known as Jabiim behind. 

They were already deep into hyperspace when the bond he had awakened not too long ago spiked, an earsplitting discordant note, then went brutally quiet and died, leaving Qui Gon alone and nauseous, with the vile taste of corked wine on his tongue in the suddenly claustrophobic dark.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks! This is the last chapter. Thank you for coming along on this journey. Shoutout to my most wonderful beta lilibet who also agreed to let me use of one of her stunning arts for this chapter. Thank you so much.

Qui Gon didn't know who he had to thank, the Force or the Council but he was granted some down time after Jabiim. Depa had told him a few days after the mission that the council had seriously considered granting him a seat on the Council for the way he had handled the situation. An emphatic "NO" had been his answer. He refused. Depa had smiled a knowing smile and left him to his devices, her new padawan in tow. 

Frankly, Qui Gon had other things to worry about, and being bound to the Council couldn't have come at a worse time. Obi Wan had disappeared, their bond had gone dead and Qui Gon was haunted by a possibility he refused to entertain. Better to search the galaxy and turn every stone than resign himself to the fact that his soulmate was dead.

He had one lead though. Jabiim was Obi Wan's last known location before he went missing, a joint mission with Ventress. He chased the corpse-pale ghost through the stars until he finally cornered her on Coruscant of all planets. She's laughing and taunting him from the moment they first cross blades until he has her pinned, emerald blade at her throat.

" _Where. Is. He_??" he ground out. He didn't have any patience left, he felt himself unraveling, one strand of the bond at a time. It's worse than drifting through life, hoping for his soulmate to cross his path. Because now he knew Obi Wan, he knew his fierce golden eyes, his smell of ozone and spice, his fierceness in battle. Ventress just laughed, unhinged.

"Wouldn't you want to know, _Jedi_?" She hissed, venom heavy on her tongue. Fury is at his fingertips, ready for his call, if he pressed the emerald blade a little bit closer, the air would fill with the smell of burning flesh. It would be easy, so easy. He switched the blade off.

"I won't ask again. Where. Is. He?" Ventress looked at him and then back to the now extinct blade.

"Rattatak," she finally bit out. Relief was eclipsed by dread. It coursed through his veins. Never would he have found Obi Wan there. It's on the opposite side of the galaxy compared to Jabiim. 

"I would hurry tall Jedi," she sneered again, "your little Sith is not in good shape." Qui Gon leaped back, as if her words were a physical burn. Obi Wan was not dead, not yet. Not if he had any say in this.

He hurried back to the temple and requisitioned a shuttle immediately, not even bothering to go back to his quarters before leaving. Unease plagued him as he entered Rattatak’s perpetual red and dusty twilight. Everywhere vertiginously high cliffs cleaved the planet's crust. Red sky, red stone, the planet looked like it was bathed in blood. Ventress hadn't given him any more indication on where to find Obi Wan, and his bond with the other half of his soul was as good as dead.

So Qui Gon did as he always does in those moments. He trusted the Force and let it guide him, down, deeper and deeper until the sky was nothing but a distant memory. He knew he was on the right path. The stink of the dark side was getting stronger and stronger, cloying and choking. 

He didn’t know what to expect down here, but certainly not for the rock to give way to cold hard durasteel. As sterile as the place looked, the Force told another story. Whereas Kamino was as smooth and unreadable in the Force as it looked, this place was drenched in anger, madness, fear and death. Qui Gon’s wound ached in treacherous harmony. Again there were no signs of any activity. And yet. With a certainty born out of despair, Qui Gon let himself be guided by his feet and wound.

He meandered through identical-looking corridors until he stopped in front of an unassuming door. He reached out with shaking fingers, trepidation warring with fear of what he would find behind that door. He didn’t feel anything from the other side in the Force, and that, above everything told him he had finally reached his intended destination.

He lifted a trembling hand, fingers stopping millimeters away from the door. His hand wouldn't move, frozen in place. What if death awaited behind this door, or worse, nothing? His heart was torn between finally having his answer after stalking the galaxy and fearful. Plausible deniability of Obi Wan's death was his last hope, he wasn't sure he was ready to let it go. His hand sagged miserably without having even touched the door and Qui Gon resisted the urge to just bang his head against it.

The Force was quiet, offering no guidance. Qui Gon would have to take a leap of faith, trust his heart if not the Force. He took a deep breath and his fingers finally connected to the door. He pushed. The door didn't move. He pushed harder. Nothing. Qui Gon growled. He was getting frustrated. He resigned himself to taking out his lightsaber and made a quick work out of the reinforced durasteel door. When the still melting cadaver of the door finally fell to the door, Qui Gon wished it hadn't.

The space he found himself in was pitch black and cavernous from the sound of falling droplets that echoed ominously. Nothing like what he would have expected behind the rather unassuming looking door. His lightsaber and the light from the corridor were the only source of illumination. Qui Gon tested his bond with Obi Wan again, hoping against all hope that something would have changed, that it would be able to pinpoint Obi Wan's position. To no avail.

Brandishing his lightsaber like a torch, Qui Gon began to meander, enhancing his hearing with the Force and listening for any odd sound. Time had long ceased to hold any meaning for him since landing on Rattatak, but each step seemed to stretch over a little infinity.

A sound. Barely a moan. More like a breath, disturbed the chilling silence and Qui Gon froze. He was not alone. He waited. Completely still, holding his breath for fear of missing another sound. The painful noise echoed again and this time, Qui Gon knew where it came from.

Heedless of the darkness, he rushed forward, as the icy grip of fear tightened around his heart. He prayed to all the little gods known and unknown, hoping he had made it in time. Qui Gon came to a sudden halt. There. Illuminated only by the sickly green glow of his lightsaber kneeled a listless figure, only kept standing by the chains that bit into its scraggy wrists. Skin was barely visible under all the wounds left to fester, a mass of terribly flayed flesh.

Nausea burned his oesophagus, the lightsaber hobbled in his shuddering hands, but he couldn't let it go, he had to look, to make sure. One step. And another. Qui Gon came crashing down on his knees in front of the prisoner. Their face was obscured by lanky hair, concealing all clues about their identity, their presence a void in the Force.

With achingly gentle hands, Qui Gon reached out, and his fingers made contact with a bony jaw. He traced their face with light fingerprints, until they bumped against a mole. A choked sound escaped Qui Gon, almost a sob. Relief and agony crashed through him. He had finally found Obi Wan. His soulmate wasn't dead, not yet at least. Not if Qui Gon had anything to say about this.

He swallowed down the nausea and proceeded to look for a way to untangle Obi Wan from the chains. He had no doubt the shackles and chains were force suppressant, and he wouldn' be surprised if Obi Wan had been drugged too. Cutting away the chains and shackles from Obi Wan took longer than Qui Gon would have liked, a painstaking and delicate process, until the other man collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, right into Qui Gon arms.

Getting up and carrying Obi Wan out was laughably easy, so easy Qui Gon wept. Obi Wan was a shadow of himself, muscles and weight lost to torture. He was so light. It's as if he wasn't even there at all. A broken and empty cocoon. And still Obi Wan had not stirred or shown any trace of consciousness.

The trip back to his ship passed in a blur, his only anchor in reality the fragile weight of Obi Wan in his arms. When it was time to enter their destination coordinates, he froze. He had found Obi Wan again, but had never planned for what he would do once he did find him. His first thought was to get Obi Wan to Bandomeer. But Bandomeer was on the other side of the galaxy and Obi Wan needed to be healed _now_. Coruscant was a no. He couldn't bring a Sith to be healed in the middle of the Jedi temple. He would never endanger Obi Wan so. 

The only other option available was Naboo. He set course for Padme's planet, sending her a message begging for help. A week of dread, of healing Obi Wan to the best of his meager abilities, trying to keep the other alive. Landing on Naboo among the frantic welcome committee made of healers and Sabe was an absolute relief. 

Qui Gon had no time at all to think about why Padme's most trusted handmaiden wasn't with her but exhaustion was crashing through him and those considerations demanded more profound consideration than what his sleep deprived brain could ponder at the moment. He was given quarters and oblivion claimed him as soon as his head touched the pillow.

The healers kept Obi Wan drowning in a bacta tank for a long time, leaving Qui Gon at loss for what to do once he had commed Mace to tell him his mission had been successful and thanking Padme for welcoming them on Naboo. He meandered through the palace at odds hours of day and night, gliding from one place to another, unable to stay in pace for long.

He was only allowed in once Obi Wan was pulled out of the bacta and laid out on a medical bed, his skin clear of the scars left by the torture. Qui Gon collapsed on the stone floor beside Obi Wan's bed, fingers carding through the long, silky clean strands free of braids. Qui Gon lost himself to the soothing repetitive motion, grateful finally to be able to touch the other man, his only way of knowing he was _there_.

Qui Gon had no idea how long he had been there, cold despite the warm sunlight pouring from the ceiling-high windows, and alone despite the bustling healers around them, when the copper head stirred. 

"S' nice," came a slurred murmur from the bed. Blurry golden eyes opened slowly and pinned Qui Gon in place. 

"You're awake!" exclaimed Qui Gon softly.

"That's….'m not sure y' c'n call this 'wake," Obi Wan said, but he was smiling despite his acerbic tone. Apparently being grievously wounded had done nothing to curb Obi Wan's sharp wit. Overwhelmed, Qui Gon took one of Obi Wan's hands, resting limply on the crisp white sheets of the medical bed, and brought to his lips to kiss softly. 

"Thank you for being alive." _I don't know what I would have done if I had not found you_ thought Qui Gon, but did not say these dangerous words out loud. So instead he tried to push his gratitude towards Obi Wan through their bond, only to realise it had not been restored as he had hoped it would once Obi Wan had awoken. A stricken sob escaped him.

He had been so close to losing Obi Wan, his flame, the crippled bond the stark reminder of what had almost happened. Obi Wan must have sensed his anguish, or more probably felt the tears that soaked his hand because suddenly he was squeezing Qui Gon's hand back feebly.

"am 'ere now. 'm 'ere," he whispered, "won't let y' go. M'ne, please" 

"I swear Obi Wan," _I will never abandon you, not ever, not again_. For now, his flame needed to sleep, and get his strength back. They would talk later. Indeed, Obi Wan's eyes were fluttering closed, and he was soon asleep, Qui Gon's hand still clasped in his.

Obi Wan woke up intermittently during the following days, still exhausted but more and more lucid every time. The Healers were formal. Obi Wan recovery would be long and he would need plenty of rest. Qui Gon had received the news draped in the calm dignity of a Jedi Master, but a plan was taking shape in his mind. The war had been slowly destroying both of them, and it had nearly cost Obi Wan his life. 

First he would need Obi Wan’s approval. Much of the other man remained a mystery, they knew so little of each other. And yet. Qui Gon slowly made his way toward Obi Wan. Qui Gon had felt his eyes on him during his talk with the Healers, like he did every time Obi Wan would awaken without Qui Gon by his side. 

Obi Wan had barely talked since his first awakening, but every time he was awake, his eyes, or hands sought out Qui Gon. Such was the case now as Qui Gon crouched by Obi Wan's bedside, and took the other's hand in his. The infirmary was quiet, barely disturbed by the sound of their breathing, the birds and water songs from outside. Serenity hung over the place like a gossamer cloak, beautiful and fragile. They stayed like this, sharing the peace until Obi Wan spoke in a broken whisper.

"I'm tired," he said, and Qui Gon knew he was not just talking about the torture. He was tired too. In a bone deep way. 

"I can't go on like this, please," Obi Wan's voice had taken a desperate edge and Qui Gon smoothed the other's hair.

"Shhh. I know. I promise you, it's over."

"Please," Obi Wan said again. And Qui Gon knew. He would take Obi Wan away, protect him until he healed, take his hand and walk with him until despair and grief relinquished their hold on Obi Wan.

"Come with me to Bandomeer," he pleaded, "come with me and we will heal." _Together_. He didn't say it. He didn't need to. Obi Wan took his hand again with a newfound strength, eyes suspiciously bright.

"Together," he promised. And somehow, Qui Gon knew they would be okay. He didn't know when, and he wasn't a fool. He was aware of the many obstacles they would face. The war still raged on, but in this moment and the next, and the one after, and from now on, they wouldn't walk alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks! This has been a long project that I am happy to finally share with you all! I am glad to say that the fic is finished and will be thus regularly updated.


End file.
